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Publishers Chicago 











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COMIC PLAYS 
and DIALOGUES 


BY 

HOBERT O. BOGGS 



BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 

CHICAGO 



T HESE plays represent bits of 
nonsense put into dialogue which 
will be relished as unique in their 
field. The comedy consists princi¬ 
pally of play upon words and in a 
certain twist or slant which at the 
outset excites the risibilities. There 
is comedy also in the scenes and situ¬ 
ations. Without exception every play 
will raise a laugh and most of them 
are funny throughout the greater part 
of the dialogue and action. 




Copyright, 1926, by 
BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 


©C1A957869 


Made in U. S. A, 



30 1926 




\ 




CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Hok b- an b~Poke . 5 

2 boys 

A Midnight Excursion... 7 

7 boys 

The Census Taker... 13 

1 boy, 1 girl 

Poor Teacher. 17 

6 boys, 6 girls 

The Kitchen Convention..... 24 

3 boys, 8 girls 

African Justice. 29 

9 boys 

Three 0 ’Clock in the Morning... 35 

2 boys 

The Singing-School Teacher. 41 

3 girls 

R*^_^an»-Gus. 43 

2 boys 

A^Gity-Ettbe;.. 47 

2 boys 

Playing Politics. 50 

6 boys 

3 













4 CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Ristus and Rastus. 56 

2 boys 

A Difference of Opinion. 61 

3 boys, 3 girls 

Cheaters . 67 

3 boys 

The Cripples. 70 

4 boys, 1 girl 

The New Boy. 74 

4 boys, 2 girls 

The Poets Cornered. 78 

4 girls 

Bertha Brings Home the Bacon. 83 

3 boys, 3 girls 

THir^XciFisTr;:. 99 

1 girl, 1 boy 

Gabriel's Horn. 106 

5 boys, 2 girls 


Ham and Sam 

2 boys 


109 














Comic Plays and Dialogues 

HOKE AND POKE 

CHARACTERS 

Hoke, Plain and simple Poke, Simple and plain 

COSTUMES 

Extreme burlesque. Blackface. 

IIoke. Say, Poke, Ise been a-lookin’ fo’ you. Kase why 
ain’t yo ’ been down to see me no mo ’ heah lately ? 

Poke. Why, Ise been sick, Hoke. 

IIoke. Sick ? Why, what seemed to be de mattah wid ye ? 

Poke. Well, at fust eberting seemed to be de mattah; but 
it fin’ly tuhned out dat I had a pain across my mis’ry, 
besides what ailed me. 

Hoke. It’s a wondah dat yo’ diden die. Did yo’ hab a 
doctah to come an ’ see yo ’ when yo ’ wuz sick, Poke ? 

Poke. Yas, suh, I had two ob ’em an’ de las’ wun said dat 
I had two buckets o’ lossis. 

Hoke. What did yo ’ tell ’im ? 

Poke. I tole ’im dat he wuz plum wrong; dat I nevah had 
but wun, an’ it wuz jes ha’f full. 

Hoke. W’en de doctahs zamined yo’, did dey take yo’ 
temptuah? 

Poke. I dunno ’bout dat; but wun ob ’em tuck my watch 
an’ de oden tuck my pocket knife. 

Hoke. Huh! Dey sho musta tuck to you. 

Poke. Yes’n ef I evah kotches dem two buhds wun at a 
time, Ise gwine-a put a tuck in de seat o ’ deir pants wid de 
toe o’ my shoe. 

Hoke. Doan do nuthin’ rash, now, Poke. Yo’ knows dat 
yo’ wife has hahd enuf time makin’ a libbin fo’ all dem 
kids, ’thout habbin to pay yo’ fine. Yo’ shoah am got a 
good wife, yo’ is. 

Poke. Yassah, dat am a fac’. Dat woman tickles me 

5 


6 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


neahly to death evah night. Las’ nite I neahly died 
a-laffin’. 

Hoke. I doan’ see how dat yo’ wife could a-tickled yo’ 
las’ nite, when she dnn stayed all nite wid her mammy. 

Poke. Well, yo’ see, tho’, she made a quilt yistiddy an’ 
put it right on de bed whe’ I sleeps, an’ de fool ting am 
got a ruffle on it dat tickles me undah de chin. 

Hoke. Say, dat ’min’s me ob a queernundrum. What is 
it dat a woman am always a-lookin ’ fo ’, but nevah wants 
to fin’? 

Poke. Bet I knows dat. It am love lettahs in huh ole 
man’s coat pocket. 

Hoke. Nope, yo’s sho’ wrong on dat. 

Poke. Well, den it must be haihs on ’is coat collah. 

Hoke. No, dat ain’ it. W’at yo’ tink dese wimmens keer 
’bout haihs an’ lettahs? 

Poke. Well, den, what is it dat a woman is always a-lookin’ 
fo’, but nevah wants to fin’? 

Hoke. Why, it’s a hole in her sock. 

Poke. Well, I say dat am easy, ain’ it? But say. Yo’s 
so prevaricatin’. Did yo’ evah see a sock dat ain’ had 
no hole in it? 

Hoke. Why, co’s I is. Yo’ must be crazy. 

Poke. Yo’s seen ’em, den, widout no hole atall? 

Hoke. Why sho ’. 

Poke. How in de Sam Hill could yo’ put de fool ting on, 
den? 

Hoke. I guess I has to han’ it to yo’ on dat. But does yo’ 
evah ’membah seein ’ any ob dese heah lil ole fuzzy wuzzy 
dogs ’bout so high? [Indicates with hand.] 

Poke. Yes, I is, is yo’? 

Hoke. Sho’. But does yo’ know how to tell which is his 
head an’ which is his tail? 

Poke. No. How ? 

Hoke. Stick a pin in ’im an’ see which end barks. [Sticks 
pin in Poke, who barks and jumps and runs off stage as 
curtain falls.] 


A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION 


CHARACTERS 


Farmer Wilkins, Foxy 
owner of melon patch 

Sambo, Colored man who has 
a tooth for melons and a 
weakness for sleeping 

Snip, Not very brave 


Goggles, Near-sighted but 
bold 

Curly )All of one mind, 
Mack >viz., about hooking 
Bud ) melons 


•COSTUMES 

Ordinary, or extreme burlesque, for farmer and Sambo. 
PROPERTIES 

Gun, blanket, sacks, melons or substitutes of some kind, goggles. 


Enter Farmer Wilkins from right 

Farmer Wilkins. By gum, I shore have a fine prospec’ 
fer melons this year. Melons on the vines an’ melons in 
their rin’s as big as—as big as a barrel, more or less. 
Ef I kin jest keep them dern kids out now, I’ll be all 
hunk-a-dunkus. But I’ll fix ’em. They cain’t git ahead 
o’ me. [Exit left.] 

Enter Sambo from right 

Sambo. Lawsee, I sholy am glad dat Mist ah Wilkinses 
wattahmillions am a-gittin’ ripe. Dis dahkey am mos’ 

fon’ of dat kin’ o’ fruit. Dey ain’ nuthin’- [listens]. 

Peahs to me dat I kin heah feet tracks a-comin ’ an ef dey 
sees me, I’se diskivered. [Exit left.] 

Enter Snip and Goggles at center 
7 



8 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Snip. Go easy there now, Goggles. Right yonder’s the 
patch. 

Goggles [who is several steps ahead]. Well, I reckon J 
knowed it. Why don’t you come on ? What you skeered 
at? 

Snip. I ain’t skeered, I tell you, no more than you are. 

Goggles. Well, you shore act that-a-way. I’d hate to be 
sich a ’fraid cat. 

Snip. Wait a minute. [Anxiously.] What if we’s to 
get shot? 

Goggles. Oh, never mind gittin’ shot. Ole man Wilkins 
won’t see us an’ he couldn’t hear thunder. 

Snip. But he might ’a’ doped his melons. Let’s go back. 

Goggles. Naw, come on. I’m go’n’ to have me a melon. 

Snip. Listen! [A noise is heard outside at right.] Wow! 
[Snip jumps and grabs Goggles as he yells.] 

Goggles. Le’s beat it now! You’ve ruint ever’thing. 

[Exeunt both at left.] 

Reenter Farmer Wilkins at right 

Farmer Wilkins. Sambo! Oh, Sambo! 

Sambo [outside at left]. Yassah, I’se a-comin’ dis minut. 
Sho, chickey! Get fer dat roost agin. [Enters, brushing 
chicken feathers from clothes.] 

Farmer Wilkins. Where you been, Sambo? 

Sambo. No whar, massa, ’cept jes’ takin’ a walk. Yo’ 
see, mah health ain’ been so very scrivinatin’ heah lately, 
an’ so I needs a walk as a soht uv stem windah—ah, I 
mean stimyolatah. 

Farmer Wilkins. Never mind your stem winders. What 
I want is my shot gun that you borrowed last summer. 

Sambo. Now, lemme see. I ’se got dat gun all right; but 
my li’l Rastus am a-drivin’ nails wid de hammah, an’ 
Mirandy ajn a-totin’ watah fum de spring, an’ my boy 

Gawge am a-usin’ de barrel fo’ a helescope-what yo’ 

look at de stahrs wid. [Makes motion of looking through 
telescope.] 



A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION 


9 


Farmer Wilkins. You hurry up an’ fetch that shotgun 
to me, you rubber-lipped rascal, before I do you harm. 
I think them boys’ll git in my melon patch tonight, an’ 
I want to give ’em a warm reception. 

Sambo. Yassah. I’se gone dis minut an’ I sho specs dat 
powdah an’ shot’ll be wahm enuf fo’ ’em, too. [Exit left.] 

Farmer. I’ll show ’em, I will! These here gamboozled 
kids ’ll find out a thing or two they don’t know yit. I ’ll 
blow a hole in some uv ’em big enough t’ poke yer fist 
in. It ain’t altogether so much that I keer about the 
melons they’d git as it is hatin’ to let ’em outdo me in 
anything, that hurts my dander. 

Reenter Sambo [Mowing through gun as a horn] 

Sambo. Heah, heah, heah, Mistah Wilkins, heah’s yo’ 
shotgun. 

Farmer. All right, Sambo, ye kin go git ye a melon now, 
if ye want one. Don’t git hut one, though. 

Sambo. Ef I wants one. Huh, I ain’ nevah seed de time 
yit when I didn’t wants one. But I won’t git but one, 
Mistah Wilkins [Farmer Wilkins starts off left ]—in a 
pig’s eye. I’se got tree small wives an’ children dat laks 
wattahmillion same as white fo’kses. I’ll jest fotch 
dem one home an’ git two fo’ myse’f. [Exit Sambo 
right, as Bud, Curley and Mack enter from left.] 

Bud. We’ll get us one apiece, Mack, and eat them outside 
the patch. 

Mack. Suits me all 0. K. How about you, Curly? 

Curly. Naw, le’s eat ’em in the patch an’ then stack the 
rin’s up where ole man Wilkins can see ’em first thing 
in the morning. 

Mack. Yonder he comes. We’d better heat it. [All go 
out at left.] 

Enter Farmer Wilkins from center, carrying 
gun and blanket. 

Farmer. Now, by heck, I’ll lay down here an’ wait at 
the edge of the patch, an’ if any boys show up I’ll shoot 
’em on the spot. [Lies down and stretches out.] Boys 


10 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


will be boys and some of ’em make preachers an’ other 
respectable people, but stealin’ watermelons ain’t no 
way to begin. [All is guiet for a few moments, then 
Farmer Wilkins falls asleep and snores loudly.] 

Sambo pokes head in at right 

Sambo. Fo’ de Lawd’s sake, ef Massa Wilkins ain’t a- 
sleepin’ jes lak a sawmill. Bein’s he’s so interested in 
slumbah, I’ll jes have another look at dat wattahmillion 
patch. Maybe I will take one home sho nuff now. [Exit 
right.] 

Farmer [in his sleep]. Haw there, Kate! Haw! Git offa 
that row o’ corn. 

Mack, Curly, Bud, Snip and Goggles appear at left 

Mack. Ever’thing’s all right, boys. Come on, now for the 
melon patch. [All tiptoe past Farmer Wilkins toward 
right, as if going to melon patch.] [When last one is 
almost past Farmer Wilkins awakes and rises, present¬ 
ing gun.] 

Farmer. Aha, ye little rascals! So I have got ye now, eh ? 
Woa. Gee, back up and stand still, won’t ye? So ye 
wuz goin’ t’ hook my melons? Pst. * [Jumps toward boys , 
all of whom huddle together and jump as if frightened to 
death.] 

Mack [tremblingly]. No, Mr. Wilkins, we wuz huntin’ 
some persimmons. 

Bud. Ma sent me after the calves. 

Curly. An’ I wuz a-lookin’ fer-lookin’ fer a-a pa’s 

false teeth thet he lost today. 

Farmer. Wall, now, they ain’t no simmons, ner no calves, 
ner no false teeth a-growin ’ aroun ’ here, so I reckin, ter 
save ye from bein ’ filled as full o ’ holes as a pepper box, 
ye’d better skip out o’ here. S-K-Y-P, skip. [As boys 
run out Farmer kicks at last one, loses balance from miss¬ 
ing and falls.] 

Sambo [puts in head at right]. Well, I be Swanee Rivah, 
ef dat ole fool ain’t a-lettin’ ’em go. W’y, dat man ain’t 



A MIDNIGHT EXCURSION 


11 


got no mo’ sense nor a las’ yeah’s bird’s nest dat am full 
o’ chicken mites. 

Farmer [rises and turns on Sambo], Who you talkin’ 
about, bein’ crazy? 

Sambo. ,Nobody, Massa, ’ceptin’ my shadder. 

Farmer. Don’t tell me that. You’re too black to make a 
shadow. Why, nigger, you are so black that the lightning 
bugs foller you around in the daytime. 

Sambo. Nevah mine dat now, Massa Wilkins. I ain’ so 
green dat a bunch o’ boys pulls me £o’ der cucumber, 
lak dey did you. 

Farmer. That’ll do out of you, Sambo. If you think 
you’re so smart, just you take this gun and stay here in 
my place a while. An’ don’t you dare to go to sleep, 
either. [Sambo takes gun. Exit Farmer.] 

Sambo [sits on blanket.] All right, Massa, dat ain’ no 
trick at all fo’ dis dahkey to keep his eyes open. Dey 
ain’ no bunch o’ boys gwineter git by me, neithah, less’n 
they gits sumthin’ else. Why, I’ll shoot de tail lights 
off’n deir cabooses, ef dey comes heah agin. [Getting 
drowsy] I’se a bad coon, I is. I don’— care— who— 
comes along, I’ll— [Read falls onto chest, gun slips out of 
his. hand and Sambo begins to snore loudly.] [Boys re¬ 
turn at left. After looking carefully about, they go 
silently past Sambo and into melon patch.] 

Sambo [still asleep]. Oh, you niggahs, fo’ in a line, we’s 
gwine a hab a chicken laig, one mo ’ time. Shet yo ’ black 
mouf, ’Randy, I ain’t gwine cut no wood, I tells ye. 
Rastus, tu’n loose o’ dat cat’s tail an’ bring you pappy’s 
banjo heah. 

[Boys return at right, carrying sacks which appear to be 
filled with melons.] 

Sambo [still dreaming]. U-m-m-m, I do b’lieve dat I smells 
possum. 


12 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


[Last boy to go by takes gun from Sambo, then aims it 
at door, pointing barrel outside, while someone outside 
throws a torpedo.] 

Sambo [jumping to feet in great excitement ]. He’p, mur¬ 
der, I ’se shot, I ’se killed ! Oh, golly, dem derned boys! 


CURTAIN 


THE CENSUS TAKER 

CHARACTERS 

The Census Taker, Patient to a degree 
The Woman, A good talker but evasive 

Discovered: Woman seated with paper or needlework 
in her hands . Knock is heard at door. Woman rises!, 
goes to door . 

Woman [opening door]. Come right in, and make yerself 
at home. If ye ain’t at home, I guess ye orter be. 

Enter Census Taker carrying sheaf of blanks in folio 

Census Taker. Good morning, ma’am. 

Woman. Good morning, yerself. 

Census Taker. Are you the lady of the house? 

Woman. Well, now, do I look like the lady of a barn? 
Census Taker. I mean, are you the head, or one of the 
heads, of a family living here? 

Woman. If the fam’ly’s got any head, I’m it. John 
wouldn’t make a decent heel, much less a head. 

Census Taker. Ah, I see, then. You have a husband. 
May I ask where he is? 

Woman. Shure, ast all ye want to. But it’s small chance 
ye’ll have o’ findin’ out from me. It’s what I’d like to 
know meself. 

Census Taker. Oh, well, then, I’ll proceed with you. 

Never mind your husband. [$#$.] 

Woman. Don’t worry, I don’t. [$^s.] 

Census Taker [ takes out pencil and pad of paper]. I 
would rather have found your husband, as I have come 
to take the census of this family. 

Woman. You wouldn’t ’a’ got ’em from him. 

Census Taker. Why not? 

Woman. Because he ain’t got none of ’is own t’ give away, 
much less any fer th’ fam’ly. 

13 


14 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Census Taker. No, no, not that. I’ve come to ask some 
questions— 

Woman [interrupting], I see ye have. 

Census Taker. I have been sent here by the Government. 

Woman. Is the Gover’ment sick? 

Census Taker. Of course not. It couldn’t be. Why do 
you ask such silly questions? 

Woman. Well, you said the Gover’ment sent you here, so 
I thought it must ’a’ been in a shape that it couldn’t 
come itself, or it wouldn’t a-sent such a prospec’ as you. 

Census Taker. You are mighty dense. I represent the 
Government and I have authority to ask questions and 
compel people to answer me. [ Irritably takes purse from 
pocket and starts to produce card.] Do you see this? 
This is my badge of authority. 

Woman. That’s all right, then. Blaze away with yer ques¬ 
tions. 

Census Taker. To begin with, what is your surname? 
[Prepares to write.] 

Woman. Ain’t got any. 

Census Taker. Why, you surely have. 

Woman. Why, I surely ain’t. 

Census Taker. Have no surname? First time I ever 
heard of anything like that. Why haven’t you? 

Woman. Why, because I ain’t a sir, that’s why. 

Census Taker. What is your name? 

Woman. Sairy. 

Census Taker. Sarah, I suppose. What is your other 
name? 

Woman. Jane. 

Census Taker. Your last name? 

Woman. My last name wuz Baker. 

Census Taker. It seems mighty hard for you to under¬ 
stand. What name is on your letters, when you get any ? 

Woman. Why mine, of course. 

Census Taker. Great Caesar’s ghost! Can you show me 
one of your letters? 

Woman. Why, no, sir, I won’t show you one of my let- 


THE CENSUS TAKER 


15 


ters. I’m no fool. Yon ain’t got no business readin’ my 
mail. 

Census Taker. I just wanted to see the name on the en¬ 
velope. Your full name. 

Woman. I don’t ever git in any such condition meself. 
Ye must be thinkin’ ’bout John. He gets full purty often. 

Census Taker. What is all of your name? 

Woman. Sairy Jane Bond. 

Census Taker. So much, so good. Now, how many peo¬ 
ple live here ? 

Woman. All of us live here but Grace. She lives in— 

Census Taker [interrupting]. Never mind about Grace. 
How many live here? Eat here, sleep here, and so on? 

Woman. Well, now, if you come down to that, John 
hardly ever eats a meal at home. He lays out somethin’ 
scan ’lous. 

Census Taker. Well, how many sleep here? How many 
slept here last night? 

Woman. The baby wuz cross an’ kep’ us all awake las’ 
night. 

Census Taker. I never saw anyone more dense. 

Woman. Well, I have Seen plenty with more’n I’ve got. 
But it don’t become you none to make remarks about 
dents that I cain’t help. If you had smallpox as bad as 
I did, I guess you’d have some dents too. 

Census Taker [aside], I see she has six plates set out. 
I ’ll put down four children. [To Woman], How old is 
your husband ? 

Woman. He’s—le’s see—he’s three years older’n me. 

Census Taker. Well, how old are you? 

Woman. Why, your head is mighty thick. I’m three years 
younger ’n John. 

Census Taker. No more foolishness now! How many 
years old are you? 

Woman. Why, I’m 39. 

Census Taker. Then John is 42. 

Woman. He acts like he’s a hunderd, when they’s any 


16 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


work to be done; but let ’im see a purty girl on the 
streets, and he’s not more’n 20. 

Census Taker. What is his occupation? 

Woman. I dunno. 

Census Taker. I mean, what does he do all of the time? 

.Woman. Oh—he comes in home drunk. 

Census Taker. No. What does he depend upon for a 
livelihood? In your slang expression, what does he 
hang onto? 

Woman. Well, one day, he hung onto a circus wagon and 
it carried him plum out of town. 

Census Taker. Won’t you be sensible? 

Woman. Will, if you will. 

Census Taker. Well, I want you to tell me what your 
husband does for a living—what sort of work ? 

Woman. Why, didn’t ye say work in th’ first place, ’stead 
o’ so many big words? 

Census Taker. Are you going to tell me what your hus¬ 
band does? 

Woman. Why, sure. You know the feller that comes along 
with a hammer when a train stops, an’ taps on th’ axles? 
[Man nods.] Well, John, he helps ’im listen. 

Census Taker. I won’t waste any more time on you, if 
your census report never goes in. [Rises, hastily and 
crosses to door.] Good day, ma’am. [Exit.] 

Woman. Good day, yerself an’ may ye never come back 
here agin with yer ignorance an’ ill manners. [To au¬ 
dience.] The idee of a man like that takin’ th’ Gover’- 
ment’s place, anyhow! 


CURTAIN 



POOR TEACHER 

CHAEACTEES 

Louis, Substitute teacher 
Elsie, His best friend 

Tom, Jack, Paul, Theodore, Bess } P/J/ 

Maggie, Fritz, Esther, Lois, Sue ) * 

Discovered: Boys and Girls around teacher’s desk 

Tom. Did anyone get the first problem on page 176? 

Jack. Well, I didn’t get it, but father worked it for me. 

Bess. I got it—you multiply the 72 J4 by- 

Enter Sue excitedly 

Sue. Gee whiz, kids! Guess what’s gonna’ happen. 
Teacher is sick and can’t come to school today. 

Paul. Whee-ee-ee! We’ll go fishin’. 

Sue. Oh, no, my big brother is going to take her place. 

Tom. Gee, but we’ll have fun now. 

Bess. Oh, I don’t see why. I’m going to be as good as 
I can. 

Jack. Well, I’m not. You all just watch me. I bet I 
make things hot here today. 

Bess. I hope things do get hot—for you. 

Sue. Well, I can tell all of you that my brother Louis 
won’t stand for any foolishness. He’d just as soon spank 
me as not. 

Lois. Here he comes now, with Elsie Ferguson. 

Jack. Oh, I guess she ’ll be teacher’s pet today. He’s plum 
mashed on her. 

Enter Louis and Elsie. Pupils all bow low 

All. Good morning, teacher. 

Louis. Good morning to all of you; but you don’t need 
to be so sarcastic. 


17 



18 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Tom. Oh, we’re not sour catsup, at all. We wanted to be 
nice to you. 

Elsie. I don’t see why you boys and girls want to act 
so cute. 

Jack. We thought we’d have to act cute, since we have 
such a cute teacher and he has such a cute friend. 

Louis. Well, you needn’t worry, Jack. You’re not cute 
and you never will be. 

Enter Maggie and Esther as he finishes 

Maggie. Well, I wouldn’t want to be cute. Mamma says 
that cute really means bow-legged. 

Esther. And papa says that anybody that is cute is not 
fit for anything else. 

Elsie. I think you folks are all mean to say anything like 
that. 

Louis. Oh, never mind them, Elsie. They don’t know any 
better. 

Enter Fritz Ferguson in a rush; bumps Louis 

Fritz. Sure thought I was gonna’ be late. 

Louis. Watch where you are going there, Fritz Ferguson. 

Fritz [bows extravagantly]. Oh, excuse me. I musta 
gotcha bumpus. [Others all laugh.] 

Enter Phyllis 

Maggie. Oh, come here, Phyllis. I have something to tell 
you. 

Phyllis. Well, tell it quick. [The two go to one side, amd 
whisper.] 

Jack. I’ll just see what they say. [Tiptoes to girls and 
pokes in his head, only to be bumped by their elbows as 
they turn away.] 

Bess. Well, what did they say, Jack? 

Lois. I think they said that there’d be hot times in the 
old town tonight. 

Tom. I guess Jack thinks it’s hot times right now. 


POOR TEACHER 


19 


Louis [raps on desk]. Listen to me, now. I want all of 
you to do your best today; your very, very best. 

Phyllis. Oh, we’ll do that all right, all right. Don’t 
worry. 

Louis. The reason that I’m telling you this is that the new 
superintendent is coming here today to visit the school. 

Fritz. Listen, kids. He said some blue soup and tin 
dumpers was coming. 

Elsie. Louis didn’t say anything about blue soup. 

Paul. Aw, shut up, Elsie. What do you know about ma¬ 
chinery? You can’t even roll a wheelbarrow. 

Lois. Why, is a wheelbarrow machinery? 

Jack. Why, sure. It’s got wheels on it. Didn’t you ever 
hear about the wheels of machinery ? 

Lois. I be-lie-ve I have. 

Maggie. He’s trying to string you, Lois. Don’t pay any 
attention to him. 

Jack. Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that, at all. 

Tom. But Mister Jack Long, though he knew it was wrong, 
Tried listening what other folks said. 

So he walked on his toes, and put in his nose, 

But all he got was a punch in the head. 

Bess. Why, Tom, you ought to be a poet. 

Esther. He knows how to shut Jack up well enough. 

Louis. It is now time to begin with the lessons. You may 
all take your seats. 

Fritz. Where to ? 

Louis [glares at Fritz]. You know what I mean. Sit 
down. [Everyone scrambles about to get a seat. Paul, 
shoved by Jack, falls on the floor.] 

Louis. What do you mean, young man? 

Paul. Well, I meant to sit down on that seat there, but 
Jack shoved me and I missed my aim. 

Sue. No, teacher, J ack didn’t either. He fell off. 

Paul. Yes, but Jack pushed me. 

Louis [in fierce voice]. Jack! 

Jack. Ma’am? 


20 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Louis. Don’t say ma’am to me. Come up here. [Jack 
slowly goes up.] 

Bess [ fidgeting]. Oh, Jack is going to get a whipping and 
it always makes me nervous to see anyone get whipped. 

[Louis takes stick and looks angrily at Jack.] 

Jack [sheepishly]. Say, teacher, would you whip a boy 
for something he didn’t do? 

Louis. Why, no. 

Jack. Well, don’t whip me, then, for I didn’t let Paul sit 
down by me. 

Louis [begins to smile]. Well, you’re pretty clever. Guess 
I’ll have to let you off this time. [Jack goes back, wink¬ 
ing at others.] 

Enter Theodore 

Theodore. Say, ain’t we gonna have no school ? Where’s 
the teacher? [Pupils sign to him and point to Louis.] 

Theodore. Oh, is that it ? 

Louis. Go to your seat, Theodore Hoffman, and behave 
yourself, or I’ll show you whether I’m it or not. (Theo¬ 
dore starts to seat, but stumbles over some one’s foot and 
falls. Louis grabs him by the collar and begins to use 
stick on him.] 

Theodore. Wow, wow! That’ll do. You’re it, all right. 

Louis. Now you folks had just as well begin to understand 
that I’m going to be boss here today. Don’t suppose for 
a minute that I will put up with any more of your non¬ 
sense. 

Fritz. We don’t suppose you will. But will you suppose 
something with me? 

Louis. Yes, go ahead. 

Fritz. Well, suppose that my foot was your grandmother. 
Can you suppose that ? 

Louis. Well, I suppose so. Then what? 

Fritz. And suppose that you were going away. Would 
you kiss your grandmother good-bye? 

Louis. Why, I suppose I would. 


POOR TEACHER 


21 


Fritz. Then you suppose that you would kiss my foot. 
[All laugh.] 

[Tom then brings his book up to Louis and points to a 
word.] 

Tom. What’s that word, please ? 

Louis. Which word are you pointing to? 

Tom. Promiscuous. [Louis glares at Tom.] [Tom re¬ 
turns to his seat sheepishly.] 

Tom. Oh, I forgot. 

Louis. I don’t want any more of your monkeyshines, Tom. 
Close your books, everybody. We are going to have a 
general review. 

Theodore. General who? 

Esther. He said that he was going to ginger you up. 
Theodore. No-o-o-o, not me. 

Louis. Phyllis, tell me what is an island. 

Phyllis. An island ? Why, an island is a wart on the face 
of the ocean. 

[Tom waves his hand and snaps his fingers.] 

Louis. What is it, Tom? 

Tom. Can I get a drink? 

Louis. No. Fritz, what is a mountain? 

Fritz. A mountain is a body of land that is higher than 
the other land and is entirely surrounded by trees and 
wild animals. 

Jack. No, a mountain is a pimple on the face of the earth. 
Elsie. And grass is the whiskers on the earth’s face. 
Louis. Elsie, you know better than that. I didn’t think 
that you would act this way. 

Elsie. Well, the others answered that way and you didn’t 
care for them, so I didn’t suppose you cared for me. 
Louis. But I do care for you, too. 

Maggie. Oh, teacher cares for Elsie. Elsie and teacher! 

Elsie and teacher! [Tom waves hand again.] 

Louis. What do you want, Tom? 


22 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Tom. May I get a drink? 

Louis. No. Sue, you may spell quiet and make a sen¬ 
tence with it. 

Sue. Q-u-i-e-t, quiet. Papa said that one night when we 
stayed in a hotel in Oklahoma City, it was so quiet he 
could hear the bed tick. 

Paul. All who believe that stand on their head. 

Lois. Why, that’s nothing. Sometimes it gets so quiet 
at our house that Pa’s foot goes to sleep. 

Louis. That will do, I guess. Theodore, spell garden. 

Theodore [huskily]. Garden, g-a-r-d-e-n, garden. 

Louis. What makes you talk like that, Theodore ? 

Theodore. Well, I’ve got a frog in my throat and it makes 
me croak, 

[Tom waves hand again.] 

Louis. Tom, who are you waving at? 

Tom. You, I guess. 

Louis. What do you want now? 

Tom. I still want a drink. 

Louis. I’ve told you no, twice. Why do you keep asking ? 

Tom. Because if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. 

Louis. Go get your drink. [Tom goes to bucket.] 

Tom. The bucket is empty. May I go get some water? 

Louis. Yes, go on. Now, Jack, I want you to spell clock, 
and tell something about the different kinds. 

Jack. C-l-o-c-k, clock. There are several kinds of clocks. 
There was the big, old-fashioned mantel clock that looked 
like a medicine chest, and now we have little clocks that 
look like tin cans. When Pa went to see Ma, one of these 
big old clocks sat up on the mantel and said, “Take— 
time—take—time.” But nowadays when a fellow goes 
to see his best girl, one of these little tin can clocks sets 
up somewhere and says, “Get there—get there—get 
there—get there,” so fast you don’t know what to do. 
[Imitates as well as possible the sound of a small alarm 
clock.] 

Louis. Paul, I want you to begin now and prepare an 


POOR TEACHER 


23 


essay. Use any subject you may choose. Maggie, what 
is the longest word you know? 

Maggie. Smiles. 

Bess. Why, that has only six letter in it. 

Maggie. Yes, but there’s a mile between the first and the 
last. 

Louis. Lois, spell gladiator. 

Lois. Gladiator, g-l-a-d-i-a-t-o-r, gladiator. That’s what 
the cannibal said when he ate up his mother-in-law. 

Louis. Paul, you may read your essay now, if you have 
it ready. 

Paul [comes to the front and reads from paper]. ‘‘Sub¬ 
ject : Teachers. There are many kinds of teachers. There 
are fat teachers, slim teachers, long teachers, short teach¬ 
ers, big teachers, little teachers, sweet teachers, sour teach¬ 
ers, smart teachers, dull teachers, black teachers, white 
teachers, good teachers, bad teachers and teachers who 
are really not teachers at all, but just think they are 
teachers.” 

[Tom comes in during Paul’s reading and sets water 
down; then takes dipper, fills mouth with water, but 
appears to become so interested in the reading that he 
forgets to swallow. At last he becomes so tickled that 
he laughs out, blowing water out of his mouth in a fine 
spray as he does 50.] 

Louis. What do you mean by such an insinuation ? 

Paul. Nothing at all. 

Louis. Yes, you did. Come here, sir. [Paul comes hesi¬ 
tatingly to him. Louis grabs Paul’s hand and makes a 
very comical business of trying to whip him, as Paul 
jumps about and sags in his legs at the knee each time the 
switch descends..] 

CURTAIN 

At the conclusion a short program may be given if desired. 

The numbers should be old fashioned and rendered in sing-song style. 


THE KITCHEN CONVENTION 


CHARACTERS 

Tablecloth, Boy wrapped in table linen or sheet 
Humpty Dumpty, Boy wearing clown suit or equivalent 
Dish Rag, Girl in ragged and soiled dress—tow cloth or 
burlap is excellent 

tJAtsuP, Girl in long, flaring, red paper dress 
Wash Basin, Girl in cardboard imitation of basin 
Salt and Pepper Twins, Two small girls dressed in gray 
paper or percale bloomer suits with caps to match 
Dish, Girl in paper imitation of dish 
Match, Boy in white tights with red cap 
Toothbrush, Girl in white carrying a large mop or brush 
of some sort painted to represent a toothbrush 
Fork, Girl carrying a hay or garden fork wrapped with 
crepe paper or gilded with aluminum paint 

Enter Tablecloth. Sees sign upon the wall 

Tablecloth. I wonder what this can be. Oh, a meeting 
of all the kitchen and dining-room people in the kitchen 
tonight. Everyone asked to turn out. Well, I’ve been 
turned so many times lately that I’m dizzy, but I suppose 
I can make this turn without any serious trouble. 

Enter Humpty Dumpty singing 

Humpty Dumpty. Hey bum de diddle dum, 

Hey bum de leary, 

Hey bum de diddle de, oh. 
Tablecloth. Why, Humpty, you must be happy. 
Humpty Dumpty. Always address me by my full name, 
please. Humpty Dumpty. 

Tablecloth. Must I say, “Sat on a wall,” too? 

Humpty Dumpty. No. I don’t sit on a wall and I didn’t 
catch any fall, either. 


24 


THE KITCHEN CONVENTION 


25 


Tablecloth. But you did in the book. 

Humpty Dumpty. I never was in a book. I- 

Enter Dish Rag and Wash Basin 

Dish Rag [interrupting Humpty]. What’s the matter in 
here ? Can’t you people find anything to do but quarrel ? 
You are just like humans—always chewing on me. I’m 
the rag, you know. 

Wash Basin. Do be quiet, friends. I hear some one else 
coming. It might be some stranger who would think us 
most uncivilized, indeed, if we keep on the rub with each 
other all of the time. 

Enter Catsup, leading the Salt and Pepper Twins 

Catsup. Here, look whom I found outside crying. 

Humpty. Well, Catsup, we’re glad that you came. But 
why are these little people crying? 

Salt. Well, you see, we are the Salt and Pepper Twins and 
no one can ever tell us apart without shaking us, so that 
it is very disagreeable, you must admit. 

Pepper. And sometimes they push us over just for the fun 
of seeing us jump back up again. It’s trying, I must say. 

Dish Rag. You ought to be more patient and not allow 
yourself to be so easily offended. Think of how I am 
always getting squeezed. 

Enter Match and Dish, while Dish Rag talks 

Match. Yes, and some one is always striking me. Of 
course, I know that I am not exactly a saint and I am 
willing to admit that I am somewhat of a stick, but still 
I do not feel that I deserve to be struck and scratched 
as I am. 

Tablecloth. Now, if there is to be a troubles meeting, I 
am glad that I came, for no one gets insulted more than I. 
Why just think, folks, of having coffee, gravy, soup and 
anything else that will spill, poured all over your head. 

Dish. Yes, yes, we all know about that, but have you 


26 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


heard the scandal that the boys and girls of the human 
kingdom are circulating about me? [All shake their 
heads in the negative.] Well, it has just come to my 
ears today that they are saying I ran away with my 
friend, Mr. Spoon. The cup told me about it and I really 
wanted to Saucer too, but I thought ’twould do no good. 

Wash Basin. Well, well, you people grumble a lot about 
the boys and girls. I don’t see anything so much wrong 
with them. They hardly ever bother me. 

Catsup. Why, no wonder, Wash. Look who you are. 

Enter Toothbrush 

Toothbrush. They bother me, I can tell you; though not 
in the way that you might think. I have been told that 
parents instruct their children to treat us shamefully by 
putting us in their mouths and cleaning their teeth. But 
I have never been insulted in that way yet. I do get 
used for a doll’s hairbrush though, and that’s what I 
don’t like. 

Tablecloth. I have this much more to say. I am sick 
and tired of being used for a pack horse and the very 
next time that a big load of food is piled on me, I’m going 
to “rear up.” 

Enter Fork 

Fork. Oh, friends, I need some help. My husband, Knife, 
is suing me for a divorce and wants to make me ‘ ‘ fork ’ ’ 
over. I think that it is all because of the fact that when 
we play any games, I am sharp enough to get some 
“points,” while he is so dull he is jealous. I want you 
folks all to swear that he is not a good example before 
children, for he is always “cutting up.” 

Dish Bag. But my dear Mrs. Fork, you are not so perfect 
yourself. ’Twas not long ago that I saw you flirting with 
Mr. Fried Meat and trying to get him ‘ ‘ stuck ’ ’ on you. 

Fork. Oh, naturally, Miss Dish Rag. You would stand 
up for one of your own kind. But you haven’t the 
courage of a flea. The cook “soaks” you in the “solar 


THE KITCHEN CONVENTION 


27 


plexus” over and over, but you never resent it in the 
least. 

Salt. Well, that’s one thing that can never be said of Sis¬ 
ter and me. 

Pepper. No, indeed. Although I will confess we are not 
above taking a tip occasionally. 

Humpty Dumpty. Oh, let’s change the subject. What 
were you thinking of a minute ago, Miss Toothbrush, 
when I saw you looking out of the window ? 
Toothbrush. Oh, nothing much. 

Humpty Dumpty. Nothing much? Why, I thought that 
you were thinking of me. 

Toothbrush. Well, I was. You are nothing much. 
Match. Dear, dear. If you people keep on spilling so 
much gas and blowing so much, I am afraid that I will 
have “to go out.” 

Catsup. That would be too bad indeed. Suppose we all 
spend some of our surplus energy in singing a song. 
All. Very well, let’s do. 

[All form a circle and sing the following song to the tune 
of “ Music Everywhere *”] : 

Oh, the kitchen people are very jolly, 

They laugh and talk and sing, 

And they cut their capers 
While the folks are reading papers, 

For that’s the very thing. 

And ev’ry night when the moon is bright 
You may hear their voices ring. 

[Repeat two last lines.] 

But the knife and fork and tablespoon, 

And the cup and saucer, too, 

One night were feeling blue. 

Felt so bad, ah! each one had 


♦Music in Merry Melodies song book. Price 20 cents. 



28 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


A pain that hurt like all pains do. 

The saucer said he felt quite looney; 

The others said, “Oh, no, you’re pruney.” 
[Repeat two last lines.] 

Then they called the doctor in 
And he looked just like sin, 

Saying, “What can I do for you?” 

They said, “Oh, listen, Doctor Dub, 

Can’t you pull us through the rub? 

The knife and fork and tablespoon 
Were prancing around like cataleptics. 

The folks all said they were dyspeptics, 

And the cup and saucer, too. 


CURTAIN 


AFRICAN JUSTICE 

I 

CHARACTERS 

Jedge Solumface, A dry jurist 
Sheriff Johnsongrass, Who likes chicken 
Rastus Fussfeathers) m j 

Sullivan Hotfoot \ The accused 
Gamaliel Soapsuds ] 

Trombone Thicklips [Witnesses 
Cornelius Bonehead J 

Deunken 01 Coon] s P ectatorg - who produce a surprise 
Enter Jedge Solumface. Looks about suspiciously 

Jedge. Who sed dey wuz gwine hev a program heah to¬ 
night? Don’ looks to me lak no program. Anyhow dey 
kin jes’ wait till we disposes nv de Co’t docket on han’. 
[Looks: all about again.] But befo’ I stahts dat bizness, 
guess I bettah hev a little innard reinforcement. [Takes 
long bottle slowly out of inside pocket which appears to 
be empty until entirely out of pocket, when it is seen to 
contain a swallow or two of milk. He holds bottle up 
before him, shakes it, then drinks.] 

Enter Sheriff 

Sheriff. Mawnin’, yo honah. What is yo* wants me 
to do? 

Jedge. Fetch in Rastus Fussfeathahs an’ Sullivan Hot¬ 
foot; den go denounce outside dat Co’t am injined. 

Sheriff. Yas, sah. I’se gwine dis minit. [Exit.] 

Jedge [has been holding bottle behind him all this time; 
now produces it again]. It sho am gittin’ to wheah dey 
ain’t no privacy ob public officials. Heah de Sheriff jes’ 
walks in on me ’thout no warnin’ a-tall. Nex’ thing 
nobody knows, he’ll be watchin’ me cut off mah toe-nails. 

[Jedge drinks again as First Coon enters.] 

29 


30 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Jedge. Hey, niggah! 

First Coon. Hey, yo’se’f. I ain’ no cow. 

Jedge. Anybody c’d tell dat by yo’ complexion. But 
what does yo’ want? 

First Coon. I’se jes’ come heah to be a spec- tator. 

Jedge. Oh, yo’ wants to be a speckled ’tater. All right 
den, speckle yo’se’f out dar on dat bench an ack lak youse 
growed dar, ef yo’ don’ wants ter git peeled— me bein’ 
de peeler. 

[Reenter Sheriff with prisoners, Rastus and Sullivan.] 

Sheriff. It is my pleasuah, yo’ honah, to present to yo’ 
dese culprits. 

Rastus. Yo’ honah, I ain’ no mo’ culprit dan de Sheriff 
are. An ’ ef he fools wid me, I ’ll tell how come his wife 
cooks chicken so much. 

Sheriff. Shet yo’ black mouf, yo’ insinuatin’ scalawag, 
befo’ I inspects yo’ inside wid a Barlow. 

Sullivan. Yo’ honah, I begs to ask to deman’ dat yo’ stop 
dis heah sputification. Ise nervous an’ high strung an’ 
it goes again my digestion. 

Jedge. Silence dar, yo’ black lim’s o’ Satan, befo’ I 
ordahs yo ’ shins busted. Mistah Sheriff, depose de 
pris’nahs at de bar. 

Sullivan. Ef I evah gains my freedom, Ise gwine to de¬ 
pose de guy dat tu’ned me in on dis chawge. 

First Coon. I hopes dey nevah lets de sun shine no mo’ 
on dat lugubrious count’nance o’ youahs. 

Jedge [pounds, desk]. Dis omnificent body will now come 
to ordah an’ Co’t perceedin’s will fothwith promulgate. 

Rastus. Yas, if I evah kotches yo ’ out widout yo ’ razoh, Ise 
gwine ter promulgate hostilities an’ de consanction will 
be carnivorous. 

Sheriff. Silence dar, Rastus Fussfethahs, befo’ I visits 
my'anger on yo’ impertinence. 

Jedge. Call in de witnesses now. 

Sheriff [goes to one side ]. Cornelius Bonehead, Trombone 
Thicklips, an’ Gamaliel Soapsuds, come to Co’t. 

[Enter three above.] 


AFRICAN JUSTICE 


31 


Jedge. De pris’nahs will now rise an’ heah de chahges 
ag’inst dem read. 

Rastus. I ain’ tiahd a-settin’ yit. 

Sullivan. Ise not gwine-a rise unless dis coon does rise 
too. 

Cornelius [points to Sullivan]. Dat’s de niggah dar 
what started de fracas. 

Trombone. No sah, Jedge, dat coon ain’ dun nuthin’. 
’Twuz de odem. 

Gamaliel. Yo’ honah, I don’t believes dey’s neithah one 
dun nuthin’. De Sheriff jes’ come an’ ’rested dese boys 
to show his ’thority. 

Sheriff. Look heah, Gamaliel Soapsuds, does yo’ know 
who youse talkin ’ ’bout ? [Approaches Gamaliel threat¬ 
eningly .] 

Gamaliel [standing his ground]. Betcha life, Jim John- 
songrass. Ise now lookin’ in de face uv one de mos’ wuth- 
less an ’ unnecessary sheriffs in de state. 

Jedge [rises and pounds desk]. Look heah, youse guys. 
Who does yo ’ think am a-runnin ’ dis Co’t ? I wants all 
uv ye ter know dat Ise de mos ’ hon ’able an cantankerous 
Jedge Solumface an’ what I says goes. [Pidls out a huge 
razor and flourishes it about.] Mistah Sheriff an’ Wit¬ 
nesses, set down. Pris’nahs rise. [All do as commanded.] 
Now den, Ise gwine read de chahges in dis case an’ I 
wants attenshun while I does it. [Comical business of 
taking out of pocket glasses wrapped in red bandana and 
adjusting them to end of nose.] 

Jedge [reads]. Befo’ me, Jedge Solumface, a mos’ duly 
pinted an’ cantankerous magistrate, appeahs one John 
Rutledge an’ makes apple gravy dat two miscreants, 
namely, an’ to wit, Sullivan Hotfoot and Rastus Fuss- 
feathahs, did engage in one fistic fight or combat an’ did 
then an’ thereby distuhb the sleep an’ slumbah of said 
John Rutledge. [Pause] Ye heahs de chahges. What 
has yo’ all got to say? 

Rastus. Yo ’ honah, may I plead my own case ? 

Jedge. I s’pose so. 


32 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Rastus. Well, den’ I pleads not guilty. It am a true fac’, 
how-some-ever, dat dis niggah heah [indicates Sullivan] 
did git on a spree an’ try to teah up de town. 

Sheriff. Sullivan Hotfoot, what has yo ’ got to say ? 

Sullivan. I jes’ has to say, dat niggah am de bigges’ liah 
in captivity. He’s de one hissef dat got drunk. 

Rastus [raises fist]. I ain’ no liah, ye bullet-eyed baboon. 
I’ll knock a bump on yo’ haid dat’ll make Pike’s Peak 
look like a tater-hill. 

Sullivan. Niggah, ef yo’ comes one step closah to me, 
Ise gwine separate yo’ gizzahd from yo’ black body. 

Cornelius [pulls, out razor and climbs onto seat]. Let ’em 
go, boys. Ise ready to make shredded wheat outa de 
fust one dat comes dis way. 

Trombone. Say, coon, am dat razoh youse got dar fo’ 
yo ’se ’f ? 

Cornelius. No, sah, it’s fo’ mah frien’s. 

Jedge. Ordah! Ordah! Is yo’ all try in’ to show yo’ con¬ 
tempt fo’ dis Co’t? 

Gamaliel. No, sah, Ise been tryin’ to hide mine all de 
time. 

[Enter Drunken Coon, with a cap pistol in each hand.] 

Drunken Coon. Set down an’ shet up ! [All sit down and 
become quiet.] Now Ise gwine take a little nap. Don’ 
nobody distuhb me. [Sits on front seat , and nods to and 
fro.] 

Jedge. What does yo’ mean, dar, niggah, cornin’ in heah 
an’ distuhbin ’ us wid yo’ intoxication? [No reply from 
Drunken Coon, who bends low and manages to get his 
mouth full of water from a concealed bottle.] 

Sheriff [approaches Drunken Coon]. Why don’ yo’ 
answer de Jedge when he axes yo’ somepin? [A grunt.] 
Am yo’ deef an’ dum? [Punches Drunken Coon.] 

Jedge. Now look heah, niggah. What made yo’ come in 
heah so late? 

Drunken Coon. Well, sah, as I wuz on my way heah, I 
saw a dog cross de road aftah a polecat. I waited to see 
de outcome. [Pause.] 




AFRICAN JUSTICE 


33 


Gamaliel. Well, what wuz de outcome? 

Drunken Coon. It wuz awful. 

First Coon. Did de dog ketch de polecat? 

Drunken Coon. No, but he got his results just de same. 

Jedge [laughs, heartily], Dat’s one good hi’ on yo’ all. 
Jes’ fo’ dat, I ain’ gwine fine yo’ fo’ drunkenness. But 
well hab ter perseed wid de trial. Trombone Thicklips, 
come heah an’ let me swear yo’ in. 

Trombone. Say, looka heah, Mistah Jedge, don’ yo’ go ter 
swearin’ at me now, less’n I fergits who yo’ is an’ whar 
Ise at. 

First Coon. Yo’ ignorant fool, he wants yo’ ter take de 
oath ob trufe. 

Trombone. All right den. I’ll take anyt’ing dey is to 
give away. 

Jedge. Raise yo’ right han’s, all tree ob yo’ witnesses, 
an’ I’ll swear all ob yo’ at wunce. [All three do as di¬ 
rected.] 

Jedge. Does yo’ all solumly swear an’ affirm dat all yo- 
uns says in dis case will be de truf, and nuthin’ but de 
truf, and any lies what yo ’ says will be trufeful lies ? 

Trombone. I does. 

Gamaliel. Same heah. 

Cornelius. Me, too. 

Jedge. Well, den, Mistah Soapsuds, will yo’ please tell de 
Co’t jes’ what happened in dis mattah? 

Gamaliel. Dey wuzn’t nuthin’ happened, Jedge. Dis 
heah is all a frame-up. John Rutledge an’ de Sheriff don’ 
lak dose two boys, so dey hired Trombone and Cornelius 
to swear a pack o’ lies so’s dey c’d git a little somepin 
outa de bizness deirselves. 

Sheriff. Dat am a black lie. 

Gamaliel. Yo’ honah, I kin prove evah wohd dat I says. 

Sheriff. Make ’im prove it. But Ise got bizness outside. 
[Exit.] 

Gamaliel. Aw right, den, I calls on dese two boys heah 
[points to First Coon and Drunken Coon] to groberate 
wat I says. 


34 COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 

First Coon. Dat’s all a fac’, Jedge. Dese two fellahs 
heah am bofe peaceful an ’ God-fearin ’ citizens dat nevah 
bothahs nobody. 

Drunken Coon. Amen, sez I. Yo’ all thought dat I wuz 
drunk, didn’t yo’? Well, I warn’t drunk a-tall. I jes’ 
wanted ter see how things wuz movin’ ’long an’ have a 
little fun. 

Jedge. De evidence bein’ purty straight dat de Sheriff am 
crooked, him bein’ afeard to stan’ an’ face de music, as 
it were, I feels lak he am de one dat stan’s in need ob 
punishment, so it am de ordah ob dis Co’t dat we all go 
down to Sheriff Johnsongrass’s house an eat up all o’ his 
fried chicken. 

[All rush out amid cries of “Amen!” “Dat’s de way to 
speak,” etc.] 


CURTAIN 





THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING 


CHARACTERS 

Farmer Blivens, Middle-aged 
Lon, Hired boy 

COSTUMES 

Hayseed clothing for both. 

PROPERTIES 

Alarm clock, blanket, wash basin, water, soap, bridle. 

Discovered: Lon asleep on pallet on floor in ridiculous pos¬ 
ture, snoring loudly. Some one off stage imitates crow¬ 
ing of rooster. Lon sleeps on. Cow bellows, pigs grunt 
and squeal, horses whinny, etc., all noises of the barnyard 
possible should be repeated. Through it all Lon sleeps 
soundly, snoring all the while. Presently alarm goes off 
near his feet. With a single movement of one foot, which 
has a string tied from toe to alarm “stop,” Lon quiets 
the clock. 

Farmer Blivens [off stage]. Lon-nie! Oh, Lonnie! Git 

up. 

Lon [sleepily]. W-e-1-1. 

Blivens. I mean it. Git up. 

Lon. Awri-i. 

[Lon makes no effort to rise, so Blivens jerks, on cord 
from outside which strips cover from Lon.] 

Lon. Ding gone it, anyway! Where’s my hat? [Jumps 
up.] I want my hat. Dad blast it, I want it right now, 
too. There it is. The goll derned dog’s been on it. Now 
ef that don’t jest beat a hen a-peckin’ with a wooden bill. 
[Slaps hat against leg, then pulls it down over his ears.] 
An’ I had a extry clean sock some’rs about here, too. 

35 



36 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Bet I eain’t find that now. A feller ’s clo ’e$ ain’t tuck no 
keer uv by people that don’t keer nuthin’ about ’im. 
They ain’t nobody keers nuthin’ about a hired han’ ’cept 
to work ’im like a dog. Now there wuz that checkedy 
strip-ecZ shirt o’ mine—plum good, too, ’cept fer a split 
or two down th’ back an’ one sleeve tore off. But do I 
git it fixed up so’s I kin wear it agin, by Ole Missis Bliv¬ 
ens? No, I don’t. She patched th’ ole man’s night shirt 
with it. 

[Lon starts off right and bumps into Blivens, who is en- 
tering.] 

Blivens. U-m-m. You hard-headed ram! You knocked 
th’ wind clean out uv me. 

Lon. I don’t keer ef I did. Lemme by, will ye? 

Blivens. By? Where you goin’? 

Lon. I’m a-gonna go see ef I cain’t find some place t’ stay 
all night. 

Blivens. Stay all night ? 

Lon. Yes, stay all night. Not jest part uv th’ night, like 
you want a feller t’ do. 

Blivens. You go gather yore gran’ma’s green grapes. 
You’ve slep’ fer th’ las’ twelve hours. Why, you simlin 
head, it’ll soon be daylight. You hustle yorese’f out to 
th’ barn an’ put th’ harness on that pony—th’ ole woman 
wants t’ drive over t’ th’ post office after breakfas’. 

Lon. Well, I’m a-goin’ too, ef she does. 

Blivens. Why, I don’t guess you are. 

Lon. Well, I guess 1 are. Ef she goes over there after her 
breakfas ’, I’m a-goin ’ after mine. I’m purt ’ nigh starved 
t’ death right now. 

Blivens. You thick-headed numskull—she ain’t a-goin’ 
over there t’ git her breakfas’—she’s a-goin’ after break- 
fas’. 

Lon. Well, what’s th’ difference ’tween goin’ t’ git 
anything, an’ goin’ after anything? 

Blivens. Yore skull is as thick as a mule’s. She’s goin’ 
when breakfas’ is over. Kin you understand that? 


THREE O ’CLOCK IN THE MORNING 


37 


Lon. Yeah, betcha. Why didn’t you say, then, that she 
wuz goin’ behin’ breakfas’, so’s anybody’d know what ye 
meant ? 

Blivens. Behin’ breakfas’? How do you git that-away? 

Lon. Well, ef she wuz t’ go now, it’d be before breakfas’ 
wouldn’t it? 

Blivens. Why, of course. But— 

Lon [interrupting]. No but about it. Ef now’s before 
breakfas’, when we’ve et’ll be behin’ breakfas’. 

Blivens [advancing on Lon], Git yorese’f outa here an’ 
go harness that pony, before I fergit myse’f an’ hurt you. 
An’ don’t you put ’em on hin’ part before, neither. 

Lon [at door]. Well, maybe that fool horse’d better not 
try t’ git into ’em wrong end first. [Exit left.] 

Blivens. That boy is enough t’ try th’ patience uv a saint 
an’ th’ Lord knows I ain’t a saint. I never seed his beat 
in all my born days'. It’s jes’ like pullin’ a jaw tooth t’ 
git him t’ do anything. Yes, siree, it’s a good one-man’s 
job t’ keep him straightened out. An’ I’ll be hornswog- 
gled— I fergot t’ tell ’im that th’ crumple-horned cow 
got in th’ pony’s stall las’ night, so I jest let ’er stay an’ 
put th’ pony in her stall. Maybe he’ll have sense enough 
t’ feel th’ horns on ’er head before he gits fur. Like as 
not, though, th’ simlin head’ll have ole Brindy hitched 
t’ th’ hack before he notices th’ difference. 

[Lon is heard off stage as at a distance.] 

Lon. Woa there, goll darn ye. Now you better woa here, 
I say. Woa. Open yer fool mouth an’ take in them bits. 
You’ve got them jaws set as tight as Ole Man Blivenses 
pocket book. [Quiet.] 

Blivens. I guess he musta made it. It’s a wonder, though. 
I’ll be gittin’ ready fer breakfas’ agin he gits back. 
[Pours: water in pan, takes soap in hand and proceeds to 
make large quantity of lather. He next rolls tip his 
sleeves and washes hands and arms, then bends head over 
as if to wash face, when Lon bursts in at left, bumping 
Blivens into suds head foremost.] 


38 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Blivens [ straightening up and feeling for towel]. Gimme 
—blub—blub—gimme— [Sputters and blows suds.] 

Lon [hands him bridle, which he has carried in]. Here, 
take it. 

[Blivens takes bridle and rubs it over his face, then drops 
it so that it falls around his neck.] 

Blivens. You blasted idiot, hand me th’ towel. 

Lon [does 50]. Whyn’t you say towel instead of [imitates 
Blivens] 4 4 Gimme blub—blub. ’’ How’s I to know what 
you wanted? 

Blivens [wiping face]. How’d you know anything ? What 
did ye s’pose I wanted? 

Lon. Well, I didn’t know. You said “gimme” an’ I give 
ye what I had in my hands. 

Blivens. You’re not fur from a fool. 

Lon. I know it. ’Bout six feet, I reckin. 

Blivens. Couldn’t you see that my eyes wuz about t’ go 
out? 

Lon. Why, you had ’em squinched so I couldn’t see where 
they wuz a-goin’. But it looked more like they wuz 
a-goin’ in instead uv out. 

Blivens. You jest done that fer meanness. 

Lon. Maybe so, I dun it fer you. 

Blivens [notices bridle about his neck and jerks it off]. 
What in th’ name 0’ thunder ’d you bring this in here fer ? 

Lon. Well, sir, I’ll tell ye. It wuz jest natcherally so 
ding-busted cold last night that that pony has drawed up 
to about ha’f his usual size an’ his ears is froze stiffer ’n 
a poker, so I couldn’t git th’ bridle on ’im. 

Blivens. Why, you loose-lipped lunatic! You’ve been 
out there tryin ’ t ’ put th ’ bridle on a cow. 

Lon. No, I ain’t, neither. I guess I know th’ cow stall 
from th’ horse stall, so you needn’t try t’ stall me like 
that. 

Blivens. I know. But las’night th’cow got in th’pony’s 
stall an’ th’ pony in the cow’s stall, so I jest left ’em that 
away. I aimed to tell you about it, but I forgot it. 


THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING 


39 


Lon. Well, I’ll be rim rusted. What ef Missis Blivens 
had awoke me up ’fore you did and sent me out t’ milk? 

Blivens. That’d a-been funny, wouldn’t it? 

Lon. You bet it would. An’ if the calf got in ole Darby’s 
stall—well, we’d ’a’ been purty shore of veal fer dinner. 

Blivens [hiding a grin with his hand]. Why, say, Lon, 
you know I have veal all th’ time. Right with me, too, 
ever’where I go. 

Lon. Git out, Mr. Blivens. You know better ’n t’ spect 
me t’ b’lieve that, don’t ye? 

Blivens. Why, no. Ain’t I got two ca’ves here. [Points 
to legs.] 

Lon. Shore, you got them ca’ves. 

Blivens. Well, don’t ca’ves make veal? 

Lon. Yeah, but who ever heard uv veal fifty years old? 

Blivens. Oh, you gump head, I wuz jest a-tryin’ t’ make 
a little joke out uv part uv my anatomy. 

Lon. Well, seems t’ me like th’ Lord made a great big joke 
outa all yer ’natomy. 

[Female voice is heard off stage at right.] 

Voice. Breakfas’ is ready. 

[Lon starts to rush off in that direction , but Blivens 
catches him by coat-tail and holds him.] 

Blivens. Hold on, young man. 

Lon. Don’t look like I need to. You seem t’ be doin’ 
enough o ’ that fer both uv us. 

Blivens. You wash yer dirty se’f. Why, th’ hogs wouldn’t 
eat with you. 

Lon. They wouldn’t git no chance, but I bet they would 
with you. 

Blivens. Go ahead, there, an’ wash an’ don’t be all day 
about it, either. You’ve got work t’ do after breakfas’. 

[Lon pours out water left by Blivens and refills the pan, 
making a lot of lather. He puts his head down to basin 
and rubs, slashes and splashes. After much puffing 


40 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


and snorting he straightens up with his face covered 
with lather.] 

Lon. Where’s that towel? Confound it, I cain’t find it. 
[Gropes about for towel.] I’ll be dad-squizzled ef my 
eyes ain’t on fire. 

[Blivens gets towel and comes toward Lon.] 

Blivens. Here’s th’ towel. 

Lon reaches for towel and gets, hold of it, Blivens still 
holding on to it. A tussle ensues and lather flies.] 

Lon. Well, turn it a-loose, ole stingy. [With a wrench he 
grabs towel as Blivens ducks to avoid him.] 


CURTAIN 


THE SINGING-SCHOOL TEACHER 


CHARACTERS 


Sarah 

Nancy 

Hannah 


} 


Three lonely maidens 


Discovered: Three girls, seated in rude schoolroom. 

Sarah. When do yon suppose he ’ll be here ? 

Nancy. When he gets here, more than likely. 

Sarah. You don’t say so, Miss Smarty. Your name ought 
to be changed to Needles. 

Nancy [innocently]. Why? 

Sarah. Because you are so sharp. 

Nancy. Well, then, yours ought to be Buttermilk, because 
you are so sour. 

Hannah. Girls, girls. Shame on both of you to be so 
fresh! 

Nancy. Well, Hannah Hankins, no one will ever accuse 
you of that. Why here you are, nearly thirty years old, 
and hain’t had a feller fer three years. If you don’t git 
married purty soon, you’ll hafta be salted down forever. 

Sarah. Oh, she had Lem Whitesides fer a feller a little 
while. 

Hannah. Of course, I did. 

Nancy. Yes, but he’s got a cork leg, so he jest counts a 
ha’f. 

Hannah. Never min’, gals. Wait till th’ Singin’ Teacher 
gits here. I reckin I’ll show ye who’ll shine. 

Sarah. Aw, peddle that to somebody else, Hanner. I just 
bought me a fan t’other day, so I don’t need none o’ yer 
wind. 

Hannah. After Zeke Pattengill quit you as cold as he did, 
don’t look like you’d need no fan t’ keep cool fer quite a 
spell. 

Nancy. A good shot, Hanner. A good shot. But say, 
they ain’t no use fer us to spile our faces a-quarrelin’ 


41 


42 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


’bout when th’ teacher’s apt to be here ’most any time 
now. Let’s do try to be pleasant. 

Hannah. An’ they’s no use fer us to fall out over who 
gits him, either. He may be as ugly as home-made sin. 

Sarah. Oh, but he ain’t ugly. Ma seen him th’ day he 
wuz engaged, an’ she said he had purty hair an’ eyes. 

Nancy. Oh, is he engaged ? 

Sarah. Engaged to teach th’ singin’ school. 

Hannah. Let ’im be engaged to th’ school to begin with, 
but before it’s over with, he’ll be engaged to me, if I 

• have my way. 

Sarah. Don’t be too shore, now, Hanner. He may not 
keer fer yore baby-doll ways an’ angel-faced expression. 

Nancy. Angel face’s foot. Better say sour dough face. 
Fer she’d be as freckled as a guinea egg, if it wuzn’t fer 
that flour an’ buttermilk she smears on all th’ time. 

Hannah. You’d do th’ same thing, if you thought it 
would he ’p you any. Guess you’ve forgot that pasty stuff 
you bought at th’ drug store to take th’ wrinkles from 
aroun ’ yer eyes, but I hain’t. I remember one night you 
forgot to put it on till you’d done got in bed, too, so you 
got up in th’ dark an’ got a-holt uv th’ shoe blackin’ an’ 
smeared it all over yer face. 

Nancy. I diden’ do it. 

Sarah. Yes, you did, too, Nance. Or at least that’s th’ 
news that got out. I remember when it wuz, an’ I know 
fer myse ’f that you wuzn’t at church th ’ nex ’ Sunday. 

Hannah. Oh, looky yonder! [Looks out.] Who is that, 
I wonder. 

Sarah. A man an’ a woman with a gang o’ kids, looks like. 

Nancy. Where ? Where ? Oh, yes, I see now. My stars, 
what a bunch! One, two, three, four, five. Five kids an ’ 
a baby in arms. 

Hannah. See them song books under th’ man’s arm. I’ll 
bet that is th ’ singin ’ teacher. 

Nancy. Well, we’re not interested in music then. Let’s 
go. 

[All go out hastily.] 


CURTAIN 


RUS AND GUS 


CHARACTERS 

Rus, In desperate mood Gus, In moderate despair 

Enter Rus and Gus, backing in stealthily from opposite sides 
of the stage. Both make exaggerated semblance of looking 
for some one. At center they bump together , spring apart 
in alarm and draw weapons on each other. Rus carries a 
huge club. Gus has a cap pistol. 

Rus. Fox trottin ’ catfish. 

Gus. Jumpin' Jehosaphat. 

Rus. What you doin’ here ? 

Gus. Well, jes’ now, I’m try in’t’ git my heart an’ ha’f my 
liver swallered back down. What you doin’ ? 

Rus. Well, I wuz engaged in th ’ operation uv burglin ’ fer a 
looker. 

Gus. You mean lookin ’ fer a burglar, mebbe. 

Rus. Either one. It don’t make no difference. You see, a 
good burglar means bizness when he hoi’s you up, an’ a 
good looker does, too. 

Gus. Yes, an’ when a burglar gits next to yuh, you do some 
fast walkin ’, but when a keen looker gits next to yuh, you 
do some fast talkin’. 

Rus. You seem to be a man of experience. 

Gus. I am. I go over to- [names neighboring town 

or community ] ever’ Saturday night. 

Rus. Oh, you do ? 

Gus. Yeah. That’s what they say. 

Rus. What do you mean ? 

Gus. That’s what the-girls say, “You’ll do.” 

Rus. They orta say, “You ’ll mildew if you get any staler. ’ ’ 

Gus. Well, I guess I’ve got a right to be stale. 

Rus. How come ? 

Gus. My mamma spoilt me when I wuz a baby. 

Rus. You orta be kicked by a jackass an’ I’ve a good mind 
to do it. 


43 




44 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Gus. You ’re built about right, but don’t try it. You might 
git springhalted in th ’ effort. 

Rus. I might fool you a trip. 

Gus. You might git tripped, you fool. 

Rus. Aw, c’m on, le’s be more sociable. There’s no use 
fer us t’fall out. 

Gus. That’s what th ’ fightin ’ monkeys in th ’ tree said. But 
they did. 

Rus. Did what, Ignatz ? 

Gus. What you said, Krazy Kat—fell out. 

Rus. But I mean— 

Gus. I know you are. 

Rus. Let me finish, please. I mean that we orta be frien’s. 
Why, I was just thinkin’ of askin’ you out to my farm. 

Gus. What d ’ya wanta wait ’ll we git out to yer farm fer ? 
Why don’t y ’ ask me now ? 

Rus. Perhaps I should say, ‘ ‘ invite you. ” 

Gus. No, you ain’t gonna invite me. 

Rus. Oh, yes, I ’ll invite you. 

Gus. If you do, I’ll leave here on the first freight. I got 
invited once an’ I had t’ lay out thirty days over it. 

Rus. You don’t mean invited. 

Gus. I know what I’m talkin’ ’bout, I tell yuh. I wuz in¬ 
vited fer shootin ’ craps in a pool hall, an ’ also fer counter- 
feitin’. 

Rus. Not invited, you boob— indicted. But I’d a never 
thought uv you bein ’ a counterfeiter. Tell about it. 

Gus. Well, I wuz jes’ a-walkin’ down th’ sidewalk one day 
an’ a Billy Goat butted me off. 

Rus. A Billy Goat butted you off ? What has that got to 
do with counterfeitin ’ ? 

Gus. Well, a p’liceman come along an’ ’rested me fer 
passin’ a bad Bill. 

Rus. I see. I see. But to get back to our subject. Are 
you comin ’ out to my farm a week ? 

Gus. No, I may leave it weak, but I’m strong as horserad¬ 
ish now. 

Rus. What makes you so strong? 


EUS AND GUS 


45 


Gus. Diden’ I tell yuh I went over t’-ever’ Satur¬ 

day night? 

Rus. Yes, but what has that got to do with makin’ you 
strong ? 

Gus. Oh, I stay all night an’ eat onions fer breakfas’. 

Rus. Is that so? Weil, I ate breakfas’ with a feller in 
- one time an’ we had corn bread with Bon Ami 

in it. 

Gus. I never heared uv that before. Corn bread with Bon 
Ami in it. Why man, Bon Ami is cleanin’ powder. 

Rus. I know it, but don’t you know what it says in the 
Bon Ami ads ? That’s why they put it in corn bread over 
in-. 

Gus. What do the Bon Ami ads say? 

Rus. It hasn’t scratched yet. 

Gus. You are hopeless. 

Rus. Not when my wife gets a-holt uv me. 

Gus. What are you then? 

Rus. Then I’m he’pless. 

Gus. Pore guy. Does she really mistreat you? 

Rus. It’s a shame the way she treats me, but she never 
misses. That remin’s me, too—I’d better be goin’, I 
guess. [Starts off.] 

Gus. No, wait a minute. You are such a famous liar. 
Stay an’ tell one more lie. 

Rus. No, I gotta beat it. My wife is dyin ’ an ’ I’d started 
after th’ doctor. 

Gus [excitedly]. My God, then, man! Go on! I’ll run 
inside an’ see if I c’n do anything for her while you’re 
gone. [Rushes off right.] 

Rus. Let ’im go, let ’im go. He ’ll be back purty soon. 

Gus [reenters hurriedly]. Great Scott, man, your wife 
ain’t in there! 

Rus [calmly]. I know it, 

Gus [grabbing him excitedly]. Where is she? Why don’t 
you hurry ? 

Rus. She’s over to ’er ma’s, I reckin. There’s where she 
started. 





46 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Gus. Started ? When ? 

Rus. She went over there to stay, late yisterday ev ’nin 
Gus [suspiciously]. Then she ain’t dyin’? 

Rus. Ain’t even sick. 

Gus. That’s no way to joke. 

Rus. Oh, well, you told me to tell you a big lie an’ that 
wuz th’ bigges’ one I c’d think uv. 


CUKTAIN 


A CITY RUBE 


CHARACTERS 

Motorist, From the city, who wears goggles, gloves, etc . 
Boy, From the country in overalls and straw hat, carry¬ 
ing a hoe 

Enter Motorist from right 

Motorist. Such a pickle as I am in, anyway! Here I am, 
lost, nobody knows how far from home, tired, half starved 
and with the car stalled in the mud. I’ll never get this 
far from the main road again. Looks as though I might 
have the pleasure [sarcastically ] of remaining over night 
among the natives. [Looks off stage at left.] I see a 
young Hill-Billy going yonder. He might be able to help 
me in some way. [Calls.] Hey, Rube! Can you help me 
out of this mud? 

Enter Boy from left, carrying hoe across shoulder 

Boy [curiously] . How did ye know my name wuz Rube ? 

Motorist. Oh, I suppose I must have guessed it. 

Boy [turning away]. Well, then, bein’s ye’re so smart— 
guess yer way outa that mud hole, then v 

Motorist. Oh, no, don’t go. I didn’t mean any harm by 
what I said. 

Boy. Course not. You city fellers never mean no harm 
to us country ducks, but it’s awful funny to git a laugh 
on us, ain’t it? 

Motorist [in mocking tone]. Really, I’m so sorry. 

Boy [surveying him from head to foot]. Well, ye shore 
look it. 

Motorist. Forgive me, my beauty. 

Boy. Fool with me much more an’ I’ll give ye my bootie. 
[Draws foot back as if to kick.] 

Motorist. But stay one moment. Tell me something. 

47 


48 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Boy. Ain’t I told ye enough? Ef I ain’t, I c’n shore tell 
ye some more, ye wall-eyed, knock-kneed, banner-shanked, 
pigeon-toed, bow-legged son of a stuffed monkey. 

Motorist. I have lost my directions. 

Boy. Lost yer directions ? 

Motorist. Yes. Lost East'and West and North and South. 

Boy. Well, I declare. I never knowed they wuz yourn. 

Motorist. Tell me, how far is it to Evanston? 

Boy. I dunno. 

Motorist. Well, how far to Dodgeville? I came through 
there this evening. 

Boy. I dunno. 

Motorist. We surely can’t be far from Waterburg. How 
far is that ? 

Boy. I dunno. 

Motorist [impatiently]. Say,' young man, you surely 
don’t know very much, do you ? 

Boy. Mebbe not, but I ain’t lost. 

Motorist. Perhaps you could help me fix my car. [Look¬ 
ing off at right.] It is not running exactly as it should. 

Boy [looks, too]. I see it ain’t. 

Motorist. Do you know anything about engines? 

Boy. You bet. Pop has got a book about ’em. Me an’ 
Bud, we looks at it all the time when we ain’t busy. 

Motorist. That sounds interesting. If I had that book, 
now, I might be able to determine the cause of the trouble 
with my car and fix it. Has the book any pictures of en¬ 
gines in it? 

Boy. You bet it has. It’s got one picture where they’re 
gonna burn a white man to the stake. 

Motorist [ exasperated ]. Oh, I’m talking about gas engines. 

Boy. Well, these here Injuns wuz C’manches an’ I bet 
they’re wuss’n Gasses any ole day. 

Motorist. I had reference to motors, my lad, not Indians, j 
Machinery, in other words. Do you understand any kind 
of machinery? 

Boy. Yes, siree. I c’n roll a wheelbarrer. 

Motorist, I can see very plainly that you are a mechan- 


A CITY RUBE 


49 


ical genius. Great accomplishments may one day be ex¬ 
pected of you. But the reason I mentioned the matter 
to you is this: As I was driving along this evening, I 
heard a tinkling sound beneath my car and, upon stop¬ 
ping to investigate, found a piece lying in the road which 
had evidently dropped from some useful place, as it was 
worn smooth and bright. I never could find any place 
for it, however. 

Boy. Well, now, stranger, that beats all tarnation. Seems 
like ef it come off, it ort to go back on some Vs. 

Motorist. So I have been thinking. Now, it might be that 
you could replace it. 

Boy. Bring th’ piece here an’ let me see it. 

Motorist goes out at right 

Boy. Now wouldn’t it be funny, if I accidentally fixed his 
ole car? 

Reenter Motorist with something in a sack 

Motorist. Here’s the piece. I wrapped it in this sack to 
keep it from getting damaged in any way. [Unwraps 
plow-point and holds it out.] 

Boy. Well, ef anybody ever wuz a Rube, it’s yew. Why, 
yew pore, simple, city saphead, that’s a plow-point. 

Motorist [dumfounded]. Is that so? 

Boy. That’s shore right, Mister. 

Motorist. Young man, you haye a perfect right to laugh 
at me, then. But come help me push my car out of the 
mud, and I will push myself. 

Boy. If you’ll push on the car, I will. ’Twon’t do no good 
to push yerse’f. 

Motorist. That is what I meant. What time do you sup¬ 
pose it is? 

Boy. I dunno. 

Motorist. Ha, ha, ha. Look down your nose and see. 

Boy. Ye better look down your own. Mine ain’t grimy. 


CURTAIN 


PLAYING POLITICS 


CHARACTERS 

Pug, Wears a baseball mash. Fierce guy 

Feather, Light character. Has. a ball in his hand 

Dood, Overdressed 

Skeet, Another light character , has an old ball 
glove 

Tag, Has a bat in his hand 

Freck, The politician. Has a glove and wears a 
ball player’s cap 

Discovered: Boys in a group. Tag leans on his bat. 
Feather repeatedly tosses up ball and catches it. Pug 
adjusts his mask. Skeet and Freck, with gloves on left 
hand, hit into palms of same to make a pocket there with 
right fists. 

Pug. Now, fellers, I’ll tell y’ plain an’ simple, I’m gonna 
be tli’ Captun nv this yere Ball Club. I’m th’ bigges’ one 
in th’ bunch an’ th’ bes’ player, so I reckin I got a right 
t’ be Captun. 

Feather. You may be th’ bigges’, awri’, Pug, which you 
are, but you jes’ lack a who’ lot a-bein’ th’ bes’ player. 
Who knocks th’ mos’ home runs? That’s what I’d like 
t’ know. Who knocks ’em? It’s yer ole uncle over here. 
That’s who. [Taps chest proudly , then sticks thumbs un¬ 
der armpits and strikes an attitude .] I’m th’ guy that’s 
allays been th ’ mos ’ bennyfit t ’ this yere team, so I don’t 
think nobody’s got a better right t’ be th’ manager than 
I have. 

Dood. Yeah, but wait a minit, will ye, Feather? Jes’ hoi’ 
yer pertate, please. W’en y’ go t’ talkin’ ’bout who’s 
been th ’ mos ’ bennyfit to th ’ team, I reckin I got a right 
t’ say sumpin’. I’d like t’ ask all uv ye, who is it spills 
all th’ big league dope I’ve learnt? Who is it, I say? 
Yeah, who goes t’ all th’ big ball games an’ watches ever’ 
6p 


PLAYING POLITICS 


51 


move so’S I <5’n come back here an’ tell y’ all an’ let th’ 
team profit frum th’ infymashun? Guess y’ all fergot 
that, ain’t ye? But I ain’t. I ain’t fergot how that cop 
yanked me down off’n th’ fence by th’ pants, neither, 
when I wuz on dooty f er th ’ team. I reckin I ’ll haf ta be 
th’ Captun. 

Skeet. You look like makin’ a Captun, Dood Welch. You 
woulden’ make a Captun uv a tin can gang, much less a 
baseball team. Shore, y’ try t’ sneak in all th’ big ball 
games at th’ park. Ain’t nobody denied that. An’ I 
spect y’ got yanked by th’ britches more’n wunst, too, ef 
th’ truth wuz known; but that’s jest th’ trouble—ef they’s 
a game on at th’ park, we cain’t depend on you. W’at 
do y’ keer about our team, then? Nuthin’ at all—that’s 
what. Y’ gotta see alluv th’ big games, regardless o’ us. 
I ain’t keerin’ who’s th’ Captun so’s it ain’t Dood, fel¬ 
lers. Le’s, fer cram’s sake, not have him. 

Tag. Don’t worry, we won’t. Not less’n we all git sent t’ 
th’ ’sylum. 

Freck. Well, fellers, you’ve all had yer say an’ I’ve lis¬ 
tened like a gen’man. I have, ain’t I? Cain’t nobody 
say that I interrupted with ’em, while they’s statin’ the’r 
case, can they ? D’d I bother you, Pug ? 

Pug. Not’s I know uv. 

Freck. D’d I bother you, Feather? 

Feather. Not me. 

Freck. Did I you, Dood? 

Dood. No, but w’at’s that got t’ do with it, I’d like to 
know? 

Freck. Never min’. Jes’ wait an’ see. Skeet, c’n you 
say I interrupted with you ? 

Skeet. Cain’t say as I can; but— 

Freck [interrupting]. No but about it. I know Tag ain’t 
gonna grum ’le. Are y ’, Tag ? 

Tag. Not if y’ do w’at y’ said y’ would. 

Pug. Tag an’ Freck musta framed up somep’n’. Le’s not 
stan’ fer it, fellers. I ain’t a gonna do it m’se’f. 

Freck, I ain’t throo yit. 


52 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Dood. We may not, neither, may we, Pug ? [Sidles over to 
Pug.] 

Tag. Y’ may be throoer’n y’ think y’ are. Go on, Freck. 

Feather. Don’t fergit about th’ home runs, though. 

Freck. I ain’t fergittin’ nuthin’. Now looka here, fel¬ 
lers, I been perlite t’ y ’ all, ain’t I ? [Pauses for answer.] 
Well, I have’ an’ here’s w’at I got t’ say. I’m gonna be 
Captun an’ Tag’s gonna be Pitcher. 

Pug. Yes, you are, like heck. I’ll lick th’ stuffin’ outa 
both uv ye. [Starts upon Freck with fists clenched.] 

Tag [holds out bat suddenly, against Pug’s stomach]. Hold 
yer hosses now, Pug. Ain’t no reason t ’ git all fussed up 
—y ’ might git mussed up, y ’ know, an ’ I reckin yer beauty 
ain’t none too great now, as it is. 

Pug [ backing a little ]. Lay that bat down an’ I’ll show 
’bout somebody’s beauty. 

Dood [nervously]. Easy now, Pug, he might git wild an’ 
lay it down on yer head, ’r hit th ’ wrong one by mistake. 

Feather [withdrawing a little]. Ain’t no use in that 
rough stuff, fellers. Fightin’ ain’t playin’ baseball. 

Skeet. No ’tain’t. If it wuz, me’n Feather woulden’ git 
nowhere. But look how I c’n make ’em curve ’n how 
Feather c ’n swat that li ’1 ole pill. Brains, fellers, brains? 
Use ’em if y’ got any. 

Tag. Gimme my ball, Skeet. [Skeet does so.] Now, 
w’at’ll y’ curve? You’re sich a Pitcher. Now how’re y’ 
t ’ curve ’em ’thout nuthin ’ t ’ curve ? 

Skeet. Oh, I reckin th ’ club ’ll have a ball f er me. 

Tag. Has it got ary one now ? None but mine. It won ’t 
have no more, neither. 

Freck. Feather, pay me that other fifteen cents you owe 
me on that glove, ’r han’ it here. 

Skeet. Aw, come off, Freck. I’ll pay y’ nex’ week. 
Hones’ I will. I’m gonna sell my rags an’ bottles nex’ 
week. 

Freck. Pay me right now. 

Skeet. I ain’t got no fifteen cents. Lemme wait’ll I sell 
my stuff. 


PLAYING POLITICS 


53 


Freck. Gimme that mitt here, then. [Takes glove from 
him.] 

Dood. Looka here, fellers, this is gonna bust up our ball 
club worse ’n dynymite. Le’s all be reas’nable. Le’s 
vote on a Captun an’ Pitcher. 

Freck. Aw right, vote, then, if y’ want to, but remember 
what I said in the first place an’ be keerful who y’ vote 
fer. 

Skeet. Gimme my glove back, Freck, an’ I won’t vote. 
I’ll c»’nduc’ th’ votin’ fer th’ rest uv ye. [Freck gives 
him the glove.] 

Feather. I make a motion that we elect a Captun an’ let 
him ’point all th’ players to their places. 

Tag [winks at Freck]. Tha’s all right. 

Skeet. How will y ’ vote ? 

Pug. Seekrut ballit. That ’s how. 

Dood. I gotta pencil. 

Feather. Here’s some paper. [Tears off strip for each 
boy and retains one.] 

Dood [winks at Pug]. Mine ain’t hard t’ vote. [ Writes, 
folds slip and passes pencil to Pug.] 

Freck. All I gotta say is, be keerful how y ’ vote now. 

Pug [writing]. This is a free country, I reckin. Ever’ 
man’s gotta right t’ vote accordin’ t’ th’ dictates uv ’is 
own happiness. [Passes pencil to Feather.] 

Feather [writes and passes pencil to Tag] . Here, Tag, an’ 
remember th’ home runs. 

Tag [voting]. I ain’t fergittin’ nothin’, I don’t want to. 
[Passes pencil to Freck.] 

Freck. Well, fellers, I s’pose I jest as well put one in, too. 

[Votes..] 

[Skeet now collects the ballots with an air of great dig¬ 
nity.] 

Skeet. Well, gen’men an’ feller ball-players, it now be¬ 
comes my dooty t ’ inform y ’ uv th ’ results uv yer ballust. 
[Opens ballots one by one in silence.] 

Dood. Y’ mean balluts, y’ simp. 


54 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Pug. Bead ’em out, Moses in th’ dark. What y’ waitin’ 
on? 

Skeet. Well, this’n says, “Pug.” 

Tag. ’Twon’t do ’im no good, if he did vote f er hisse ’f. 

Skeet. This’n says, “Feather.” 

Pug. You li’l runt— why n’t y’ vote fer me? 

Skeet. This’n says, “Pug.” 

Dood [nudges Pug]. Told y’ mine’s easy voted. Guess 
ye’ll let me be Coach, won’t ye, Pug? 

Freck. Th’ votes ain’t all in yit. 

Skeet. Both o’ these here says, “Freck.” 

Feather. His’n an’ Tag’s. 

Skeet. That makes th’ vote stan’ two fer Pug, two fer 
Freck an’ one fer Feather. That’s a tie between Pug an’ 
Freck. 

Pug [menacingly]. You vote th’ tie off, Skeet. 

Skeet. I’d ruther not, fellers. Honest I would. 

Freck. Now looka here, fellers, I been perlite t’ y’ all an’ 
treated y’ all nice ’s i knowed how ’n diden’ wanta hafta 
go inter no grewsome details, so t ’ speak. But after givin ’ 
fair warnin’ t’ one an’ all how t’ vote an’ still y ’ all went 
on like blin’ pigs in a packin’ house, so I’ll hafta jes’ 
play a lil pollyticks now. [Pauses ominously .] Now 
looka here, fellers, who owns th’ most uv th’ baseball out¬ 
fit uv this club? [Boys exchange glances, but avoid 
Freck’ s eye.] 

Tag. Me’n you does, Freck. [To boys]. That’s a fac’, 
fellers, an’ y’ all know it, too. 

Freck. Yes, an’ more’n that, who owns this vacunt lot 
our dimunt’s on? My paw, that’s who. An’ who’s got a 
uncle that’s a cop on this beat an’ won’t bother us, no 
matter how many winders we break out, so long’s his 
nephew’s Captun ? Me—that’s who. So now here’s th ’ 
proppyzishun. Y’ all c’n reconsider an’ vote agin’r git 
t’ heck outa here. 

Dood. Le’s vote agin, fellers. 

Pug. We’ll hafta vote agin. More paper, Feather. 

Feather. Le ’s vote by voice. 


PLAYING POLITICS 


56 


Tag. Now yer shoutin’. 

Skeet. Aw right, then, who’ll y’ have fer yer Captun? 
Nommynashuns is in order fer a Captun nv this Base 
Ball Club uv Piruts. 


Pug 1 

Feather f 1 nomm y nat e Freck! 
Tag 


Skeet. Freck is nommynated. Any more nommynashuns ? 

[Profound silence.] Aw right, then, we’ll vote. All that 
wants Freck fer Captun say I. 


Pug 

Dood 

Feather 

Tag 

Freck 


- 1—I—I—I—I! 


Tag. Freck, you’re Captain. 

Freck. Who said I wuzn’t a pollytishun? I’m gonna run 
fer Guvner some day when I git grown. 

Pug, Dood, Feather, Tag, Skeet. Hooray fer Freck! 


[Freck bows very low as curtain falls.] 



JUSTUS AND RASTUS 


CHARACTERS 

Ristus, Colored 
Rastus, Discolored 

Ristus and Rastus [enter dancing and singing to the 
tune of, “It Ain’t Gonna Bain No Mothe following 
words] „ 

Weil, it*s ha’d times in de ole home town, 
Chickens am mighty po’, 

But mah wife’s got a dandy job 
An ’ I ain’t a-gonna wuk no mo 

Chorus 

Oh, I ain’t a-gonna wuk no mo’, no mo’. 

An ’ I ain’t a-gonna wuk no mo 
Fo’ mah wife’s got a dandy job 
An ’ I ain’t a-gonna wuk no mo 

Ristus. Bo’, ain’t I light on mah feet! 

Rastus. Yeah, yo’s gwine-a fool ’roun’ heah tho’, an’ 
light on yo’ haid de fust thing you know. 

Ristus. Dat so? Well, ef I wuz to, I wouldn’t bust no 
plank lak you did when you fell aginst de do ’ haid fust. 

Rastus. Huh, niggah, mah haid may be hahd, but I ain’t 
nevah axed fo’ no job lak what you did. 

Ristus. What kin’ o’ job is I axed fo’? 

Rastus. You knows. 

Ristus. Maybe I does, but which one is you talkin’ ’bout? 
Ise had lotsa jobs. 

Rastus. I knows dat you’s had lotsa jobs, but who gib ’em 
to ye? De Jedge did—dat’s who. He’s gonna gib you 
anurran, too, ef you doan’ let folkses chickens alone. 

Ristus. Ne’mine ’bout dem chickens. I wants to know 
what job is you talkin’ ’bout dat I axed fo’. 


56 


MSTUS AND RASTTJS 


57 


Rastus. Why, you come along one day an’ wanted a job 
playin’ de Jew’s ha’p at a Deef an’ Dum’ School. 

Ristus. Aw— where’d you heah dat? 

Rastus. One o’ dem boys dat goes t’ school dere tol’ me 
one day. 

Ristus. Tha’s ’bout what I thought. Now looka heah, 
Rastus. 

Rastus. Yes, Ristus. 

Ristus. You knows dat you cain’t un’estan’ dat triggah 
wuk talkin’ dey does wid deir fingahs. Now can you? 

Rastus. Ob co’se I cain’t. But he tol’ me, anyhow. 

Ristus. Well, den, how did he tol’ you? 

Rastus. Why, he had a big "plate o ’ baked sweet ’tatahs 
an’ possum. Ain’t dat enough t’ tol’ anybody wid? 

Ristus. Man, I reckon so. He could tol’ me wid dem. But 
did you evah git any o’ dem ’tatahs an’ possum? 

Rastus. Yeah, I bought ’em. 

Ristus. Gwan, niggah, you nevah had a nickel in yo ’ life. 
How’d you buy ’em? 

Rastus. I bought ’em by weight. 

Ristus. I nevah did heahed o’ buyin’ possum an’ ’tatahs 
by weight. 

Rastus. I did. I waits till he sets ’em down t’ open a 
gate, den I bought ’em. 

Ristus. Well, you ain’t sich a fool as what you looks lak. 

Rastus. No, an’ you doan’ look lak sich a fool as what 
you is, neithah. 

Ristus. Doan ’ worry, I gen ’ly takes well among de rich 
f o ’kses. 

Rastus. Yeah. Dat’s what all ob ’em said dat I talked 
wid. Fact is, I tink yo ’ took a little too well. Dat’s how 
come de Jedge gib yo’ dat Grammah lesson. 

Ristus. He ain’ nevah gib me no lesson in Grammah. 
What yo’ talkin’ ’bout, niggah? 

Rastus. Yes, he did, too. Diden ’ he gib yo ’ a sentence ? 

Ristus. Well, dat am so. He also musta thought dat I 
diden’ knows mah A B C’s, ’cause he dun tole me I 
bettah watch mah P’s and Q’s. 


58 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Rastus. Yeah, an’ yo’ had ter take dat sentence an’ wuk 
it out, diden’ yo’? 

Ristus. Ise s’posed to, but I nevah dun it. 

Rastus. ’Co’se you diden’. You’s nevah known to wuk 
at nuthin’ in yo’ life. Dem fellahs at de jail got tiahed 
a-feedin’ you an’ seein’ you weah dem rock piles out a- 
settin’ on ’em, so dey tuhned you a-loose. 

Ristus. Looka dere, bo. Ain’ dat a purty gal? She sho 
is some steppah, ain’t she? 

Rastus. I guess ^he is some steppah. Huh name is 
Walkah an she’s mah step-sistah. 

Ristus. Well, she ain’t to blame ’bout huh no-count 
mighty nigh kin-fo’kses. I’d like to git mo’ familiah 
wid huh. 

Rastus. Well, all I got to say is, dat any time you gits 
mo’ familiah wid dat gal, you’ll jes’ git hung, dat’s all. 

Ristus. Sholy not so bad as all dat. Who’s gwine-a hang 
me? 

Rastus. She is, dat’s who. Gib huh ha’f a chance an’ 
she ’ll hang huh hooks in you so deep dat you ’ll be trottin ’ 
’long in double hahness fo’ de res’ ob yo’ natchal life, 
an’ long as she c’d han’t ye aftah you’s dead. Yessah, 
you’d be pullin’ double in no time. 

Ristus. Not dis chile. Dere’s whah I’d balk. 

Rastus. An’ deres whah she’d jes’ up an twist yo’ eahs, 
sah. 

Ristus. I see dat dey mus ’ be sumpin ’ de mattah wid yo ’ 
whah’ wimmens is consarned. Bet you’d ruther miss a 
kiss dan to kiss a miss. 

Rastus. Wat diffunce would dey be ’tween missin’ a kiss 
an’ kissin’ a miss no how? 

Ristus. Whole lots, man. Ef you miss a kiss, you must 
be pahted, but ef you kiss a miss you’s jes’ got stahted. 
[Laughs gleefully.] 

Rastus. You seems to know all about it. 

Ristus. I does, I uster be a perfessor of Kissology. 

Rastus. Awri, den tell me what am de three kisses dat is 
mentioned in de Bible? 


RISTUS AND RASTUS 


59 


Ristus. I said I wuz a Perfessah. I diden’ said Preachah. 
I doan’ knows nnthin , ’bout de Bible ’cept dat it says 
‘‘Let de dade bury de dade.” What am de three kisses 
you’s talkin’ ’bout? 

Rastus. Why, doan ’ de Bible speaks about Faith, Hope an ’ 
Charity? Co’se it do. Well, dem’s de three kisses. 

Ristus. How come ? 

Rastus. Well, when you kisses yo’ sweetheart, dat am 
faith. Ef she diden’ hab no faith in you, you coulden’ 
kiss huh; an’ when you kisses yo’ wife, dat am hope, 
’ca ’se she hopes you ain’t been kissin ’ nobody else. 

Ristus. Dat’s all right; but wheah does de charity comes 
in? 

Rastus. Oh, dat’s when you kisses a ole maid. 

Ristus. Well, ef dat’s de case, deys a lot uv us sho is 
stingy. But speakin’ ob kisses, I wants to ax you a con¬ 
junction. 

Rastus. Shoot. 

Ristus. Why am kissin ’ yo ’ guhl like fishin ’ pickles outuva 
bottle wid a hat pin? 

Rastus. Man, dey ain’ no sense to dat kin’ ob a conjunc¬ 
tion. 

Ristus. ’Co’se dey’s sense to it. It’s ’ca’se aftah you gits 
de fust one, de rest am easy. 

Rastus. Yeah, bo. But gittin’ de fust one am de hahdest 
paht. An’ suh, one time I wuz goin’ wid a gal an’ I 
bet I kissed huh a million times. But I nebbah did git 
de fust one. 

Ristus. You’s crazy, niggah. How could you kiss huh a 
millium times, if you nebbah did git de fust one ? 

Rastus. Dat’s easy. Dey wuz anothah coon went wid 
huh befo’ I did. 

Ristus. I bet he kissed huh aftahwa’ds an’ between times 
too. Dey ain’ no mo’ depen’ence in dese heah wimmen. 

Rastus. No, but dey’s sho lotsa m’epen’ence in ’em, 
though. Take my wife- 

Ristus [interrupting] , I doan’ wants huh. 



60 


COMIC RLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Rastus. I means take huh fo’ a zample. She am gittin’ 
so in’epen’ent dat she sez Foth ob July am huh birfday. 

Ristus. Yeah, but she doan’ waits till den ter cellybrate. 

Rastus. I say she don’t. 

Ristus. Did you know dat I cellybrated mah wooden 
weddin’ de Oder day? 

Rastus. Naw, gwan, niggah. Dat’s five yeahs an’ you 
ain’t been married but two. 

Ristus. I knows it, but five yeahs ago I asked a gal would 
she marry me an’ she says she woulden’. 

Rastus. She wuzn’t no fool at dat. 

Ristus. No, but I wuz. 

Rastus. What makes you say dat ? 

Ristus. I wuz a fool fo’ askin’ huh. But it’s all off now. 

Rastus. You gittin’ mo’ wuss evah day ob yo’ life. 
.What’s all off? 

Ristus [points to bald-headed man in audience]. The 
haih frum dat man’s haid. 

Rastus [pushing Ristus]. Git off-a heah befo’ you gits 
all de fuzz jerked off-a yo’ coco’nut. 


CURTAIN 


A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 


CHARACTERS 

Ma, When she knows anything she knows it 
Pa, Who likes his fun if it goes off right 

John f R^ht in with Pa 
Kate \ Right in with Ma 

Discovered: Ma, Pa, Jake, John, Mary, and Kate seated; 
but as soon as curtain is well up, Ma and the girls become 
much excited as if something had run across the floor. 
Girls scream and climb into their chairs , holding their 
dresses close about their knees. Pa and the boys remain 
calmly seated as if doubting that anything had happened. 

Ma. Mercy sakes! What was that ? [Jumps up and grabs 
broom.] Was that a rat? 

Pa. Just a mouse, I guess. 

Mary. Looked like a kangaroo to me. 

Kate. Where did it go? Why didn’t you boys try to 
kill it? 

John. Why didn’t you kill it? I never seen nobody 
holdin’ you an’ you wuzn’t tied, I reckin. 

Jake. Fiddlesticks, who’d want to kill a li’l’ ole he’pless 
mouse ? 

Pa [laughs]. Jump down, girls. Set down, Ma. I’ll have 
the boys take immediate measures for your protection. 

[Girls get out of chairs but remain standing and cast fur¬ 
tive glances about the room as if still afraid. Ma sits 
but still holds the broom.] 

Ma. Now act the fool, Pa. I wanted to kill that rat. 

Jake. Kill’s foot, Ma. You couldn’t hit the side of a 
barn with a bass fiddle. 


61 


62 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


John. That wuz jest a mouse, anyhow, Ma. [Turns to 
Girls.] What you all shakin’ so fer? ’Fraid you’ll git 
devoured ? 

Pa [mock seriousness]. No, no, boys. Say not so, in tones 
so reckless. The peace and dignity of this family have 
been outrageously and unbecomingly disturbed and in¬ 
terrupted in a manner both dangerous and alarming, and 
it is with apprehension mingled with fear, tugging at my 
palpitating heart, that I beseech you, boys, nay, even im¬ 
plore you, to make defensive preparations for the pro¬ 
tection of our fireside and threshold ere the invader shall 
come again. So hear me, then, oh, my sons. Make ready 
your weapons of warfare. [All of the preceding should 
be spoken in a grandiloquent voice; then at the last end 
in mock tragedy.] Git yer bean flips and kill that mouse! 

Ma. You’re a born fool, Pa. That was no mouse, anyway. 

Pa. No, of course not. It was a lion. 

Mary. Well, whatever it was, I didn’t want the thing to 
climb me. 

Kate. Nor me, either. It makes my flesh creep to think 
about it. [Shudders.] 

John. Didn’t look to me like your flesh wuz creepin’, 
Sis. Seemed more like you had St. Vitus’ dance, t’ me. 

Ma. Don’t try to be so funny, John. Why didn’t you 
kill that rat? 

John. Didn’t see none, Ma. 

Kate. Didn’t see it? Don’t see how you could keep from 
seeing it. Why, the thing was as big as a cow. 

Jake. Yeah, it shore wuz. ’Bout th’ size o’ one o’ them 
cows on a milk can. 

Mary. Oh, you boys make me tired, trying to be so cool 
about everything. I really don’t believe you’d care one 
bit to eat worms. 

Ma. Mary, do hush. 

John. ’Course we wouldn’t, Sis. You see, we’ve done got 
used to eatin’ your cookin’. 

Pa. An’ Ma’s an’ Kate’s. Purty good, John, purty good. 

Kate. We don’t cook worms. 


A DIFFEKENCE OF OPINION 


63 


Jake. No, but you cook that Dago stuff you call Spy of 
Gettysburg an’ Pd jest as soon eat worms. 

Ma. Spaghetti is a very choice dish with some of our lead¬ 
ing families. 

Pa. An’ with some of our misleading ones, too, I guess, 
but I’d rather make my own choice. Every man’s taste 
is in his own tongue and if a feller don’t like anything, 
he just don’t like it, that’s all. 

Ma. Folks that ain’t too stubborn an’ contrary can learn 
to like a great many things, if they try. It is said that 
Mrs. Hortonspiker, according to her own confession, 
simply made herself like ripe olives. 

John. I bet she don’t like ’em yit. 

[Girls jump up into chair again.] 

Mary. Oh, there it is again! 

Kate. Kill it, boys! 

Ma. Where? Where? [Flourishing broom.] 

Jake. There he goes! [Pretends to chase a mouse on 
hands and knees.] 

John [follows suit]. Soak ’im, Jake. 

Ma. Let me hit it with the broom, boys. [Strikes wildly.] 

Kate. O-o-o-e-e! He’s cornin’ this way. [Ma and Boys 
rush toward Girls.] 

Mary. The dreadful thing! 

John. Stamp ’im. 

Jake. Smash ’im. 

Ma. Uh-h-h. [She swings broom and hits John, bowling 
him over.] I nearly got him that time. 

Jake. Looks like you got ’im—John, though. 

John [getting up]. Hey, lookout, Ma. Watch whatcha 
doin’. 

Pa [has been standing , calmly watching the excited actions 
of others]. Forward, soldiers! On after the foe! Here 
he comes. [Lifts foot and stands as if waiting for a 
moment, then brings foot down with a slam beside a 
“planted” mouse.] Ah! Fierce beast, I have slain you. 
[Stops and picks, up mouse by tail.] Soldiers, you fought 


64 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


valiantly and well. Mary and Kate [faces Girls] from 
your observation posts high above the battlefield, you 
kept close watch upon the fray. And I must say reported 
quite often enough. Privates John and Jake [turns to 
Boys] your courage was magnificent—but your feet were 
too big and clumsy. Colonel Ma [bowing to Ma] you 
displayed a wonderful accuracy with your ah-er-weapon. 
If the boys had kept out of your way, I think you’d have 
made a killing early in the fight. Came near doing so as 
it was. So now, in view of your devotion to duty and in 
slight recognition of your splendid example of leader¬ 
ship, I am going to raise you to rank of Jigadier Brindle 
and present to you all the spoils of battle—this great big, 
fierce, and erstwhile untamed mouse. [Holds mouse 
out to Ma.] 

Ma. Don’t you put that rat on me, Pa. 

Jake. Rat? 

Ma. I really believe that Pa has lost his mind to carry on 
so over a rat. 

Mary [gets down]. Is it really a rat? I thought maybe it 
was a giraffe. Its tail is mighty long. 

Kate. Giraffes have long necks, Mary. 

Mary. Oh, well, I knew there was something long about 
them. Then this is really a rat! 

John. That’s a mouse. 

Pa. ’Course it is. 

Ma. It’s no such thing. It’s way yonder too large for a 
mouse. I guess I know a rat when I see one. 

Jake. Aw, come off, Ma. You’re seein’ two or three sizes 
too big. 

Kate [gets down]. I believe it is a rat. 

Pa. Of course, you do. If Ma said it was a hippopotamus 
you’d say so too. 

Mary. I wouldn’t. But that is a rat. 

John. Hear that. If Ma’s t’ get pepper up her nose, 
Mary an ’ Kate’d both sneeze fer a week. 

Ma. You boys think it’s smart to stand in with your Pa, 
don’t you ? 


A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 


65 


Jake. No, ma’am, just sensible, that’s all. 

Ma. Don’t pay any more attention to what they say, girls. 
All three of them just want to tease us. They know that 
it is a rat. 

Pa. Not in the least. I’m serious as a judge right now. 

Ma. All right, then, if you are going to be serious, there 
is no use to continue such a foolish argument. Let’s let 
the subject drop. [$#&] 

Mary. Sure, drop it, Pa, drop it out of the window. [Sits.] 

John. Yeah, drop it, Pa. Th’ thing might come alive 
again an’ dim’ th’ girls. 

[Pa throws mouse out.] 

Kate. Say, what you like. I am glad the thing is dead for 
keeps. 

Jake. What thing? 

Kate. Why, the rat, of course. 

Ma. Don’t get the argument started again, Kate. You 
know that if Pa and the boys get started again, they’ll 
hold out till Doom’s Day that it was a mouse. 

Pa. It was a mouse; but I don’t care what you say. You 
can call it an elephant if you want to, so far as I am con¬ 
cerned. Don’t contradict, boys, if you hear the poor 
little mouse called anything else but it’s right name. 

Ma. What did I tell you ? There he is, off again. 

Pa. Off again? Yes, I reckon. I let you have it, once 
your way. Gave over to you and hushed. 

Ma. Yes, you did. You got ashamed of your foolishness, 
I suppose, and hushed. Of course you wouldn’t have the 
nerve to keep on calling a rat a mouse always. Still, I 
didn’t get mad. 

John. Why, Ma, you look as mad as a wet hen right now 
over that little ole mouse. 

Mary. Oh, smarty, that was a rat. 

Kate. Of course, it was. 

Pa. Why, of course, girls, to be sure, Ma, it was a rat. No 
question about that any longer. 

Ma. Well, there is not, nor has there ever been any ques- 


I 


66 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


tion in my mind about it, Pa. So I don’t see any need for 
you to get sarcastic, nor for the boys to act so cute, either. 
John. Le’s go play shinny, Jake, and call it golf. 

Jake. ’Bout as well, I guess. 

Pa. I’ll go with you, boys. We can call it polo, if we 
want to. 


[Exeunt all three.] 

Mary. Don’t they think they’re smart, though? 

Kate. I should say so. If Pa says frog, they are ready 
to jump in the river. 

Ma. Yes, yes. But I’m beginning to think now that they 
really believed it was a mouse. Of course, they can’t 
help it if they don’t actually know the difference. Now 
when I know anything, 1 know it. That was a BAT. 


CURTAIN 


CHEATERS 


CHARACTERS 
Mr. Jenkins, Tom, Jack 

Discovered: Mr. Jenkins reading, Tom and Jack seated 
on floor playing mumble-the-peg 

Tom. That don’t count, Jack. That don’t count. You 
caught it to keep it from failin’ over. 

Jack. Aw, I never either. 

Tom. You did too! I saw you. Gimme th’ knife. 

Jack. Give y’ nuthin. I made seventy-five that time an’ 
it’s gonna count, too. 

Tom. You never done it. You’re tryin’ t’ cheat me. It’s 
my time now. Gimme th’ knife I tell y’. [Puts out hand 
for it.] 

Jack. I’ll give it to you [savagely] if y’ don’t git yer han’ 
outa th’ way. [Motions as if to pitch knife.] 

Tom. Pa, make Jack gimme th’ knife. [Mr. Jenkins reads 
on.] 

Jack. Aw, shut up, tattle-tale. I’ll give it to you, if yer 
gonna be sich a baby. Here take it. [Tom extends 
hand and Jack pretends to be giving him the knife, but 
instead slaps him.] 

Tom. Oh, you ole cheater. [Strikes Jack.] 

Jack. Look out there. [Strikes back. Blows are returned 
on both sides, they clinch and roll about the floor grunt¬ 
ing, etc.] 

Tom. No fair pinchin’. 

Jack. Well, quit yer pullin’ hair. 

Tom. Oh-h-h-h. 

Jack. O-w-w-w. 

Mr. Jenkins. Boys, boys ! What on earth is the matter 
with you? 

[Boys roll apart and try to assume innocent air.] 

67 


68 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Mr. Jenkins. Speak up, now. What’s the trouble? 
[Jack looks at Tom, Tom looks at Jack, neither replies.] 

Mr. Jenkins [rising]. Out with it, now, before I tan both 
of you. [Boys crawl over together and , putting arms 
around each other’s shoulders , draw as close together as 
possible.] 

Mr. Jenkins. What’s the cause of this small war you 
young barbarians just staged ? I never heard such a dis¬ 
turbance. Couldn’t hear myself think, much less read. 
[Gets razor strop.] Now, Jack, you are the older, come 
clean and tell your trouble. 

Jack. Tom pulled my hair. 

Tom. He pinched me. 

Mr. Jenkins. Why did you pinch him ? 

Jack. He hit me. 

Tom. He hit me first an’ I wuzn’t doin’ nuthin’. 

Mr. Jenkins. Well, but what was the cause of all this 
fracas to begin with? 

Tom. Jack cheated. 

Jack. I never. He’s a cry baby, ’s all’s a matter with ’im. 
Just ’cause I c’n play better ’n him, he gits mad an 
hollers ’is head off ’bout me cheatin ’, when I never dun it. 

Tom. He did cheat. He throwed a seventy-five, but it 
wuzn’t gonna stun’ up, so he caught it an’ wanted t’ 
count it. 

Jack. ’Course I caught it. You gotta pick it up some 
time; if y ’ don’t, how y ’ gonna play *any more ? 

Mr. Jenkins. Ah, yes—mumble-peg, eh? How many 
times have I told you boys not to play mumble-peg on 
the floor? 

Tom. I guess ’bout forty times, sir. 

Mr. Jenkins. Had my knife, too, I guess. Where is it? 
[Jack produces it from pocket.] Give it here. [Takes 
knife.] Now, you boys sit down here back to back and 
love each other a while. Be sure you keep real quiet, too. 

[Places Boys flat on floor , backs together and returns to 


CHEATERS 


69 


chair , where he takes, up paper and begins reading . 
Boys start hunching shoulders as soon as Mr. Jenkins 
is settled. Jack draws forward for a vicious lunge at 
Tom, who turns in time to see him do so and dodges. 
Jack lunges backward , missing Tom, of course , and 
sprawls over as curtain is drawn.] 


THE CRIPPLES 


CHAEACTEES 

Father, Mother, Ned, Ted, Fred 

Discovered: Father reading, Ned, Ted and Fred looking 
at funny paper on floor. 

Enter Mother 

Mother. Boys, I need a bucket of water at once to wash 
dishes. Go get it right quick now, one of you. 

Ned. My han’s sore, Ma. I cain’t pump no ole water. 

Mother. Your hand is sore? 

Ned. Yes, it is. I told you that I blistered it yestiddy 
pumpin’ water. 

Father [looks up from paper]. Well, well, Ned, you are 
probably ruined for life. Ted, go get the water for your 
mother. 

Ted. Aw, I cain’t neither. 

Father. You can’t? What’s wrong with you? 

Ted. Well, I guess I gotta stone bruise on my heel that 
hurts so bad I cain’t hardly put my foot to the groun’. 

Mother. My sakes alive! What’s to become of this 
place? Fred, I guess it falls on you to go, then. 

Fred [smiling sickly], I gotta sprained ankle, Ma. I 
cain’t go either. 

Father. Well, I guess we’ll just have to turn this place 
into a hospital. 

Ned. Guess you don’t know how a blister hurts, do you, 
after it’s busted, a-specially. 

Father. I know how to make one before it hurts, though, 
and I also know how to bust one after it’s made. And 
sometimes bruises get on boys in other places than their 
heels. 

Ted. But I’ve got an awful bad stone bruise. Worst I 
ever saw. It jest aches an’ th’obs all th’ time. 

Fred. Yes’n my ankle’s swelled in a strut, too. 

70 


THE CRIPPLES 


71 


Mother. Poor little boys, just suffer all the time in brave 
silence, never telling mother a word about their afflic¬ 
tions. Why didn’t you let me know, so that I could do 
something for you? 

Father. They’ll let you do something for them now, 
Mother. They’ll be perfectly willing for you to bring 
in the water for them. 

Fred. If my ankle wuzn’t so bad, I’d be glad t’ git it in a 
jiffy. [Puts foot down on floor, groans and makes a face.] 

Ned. I just cain’t hardly use my han’ a-tall, ’r I’d git it. 
[Feels right hand gingerly with left.] 

Ted. I wish my heel wuz well. I wouldn’t wait a minute. 
[Puts foot down in imitation of Fred.] 

Father. Yes, yes, we know it, boys. Do sit back down 
now and try to find some comfortable position for your 
injured parts. I’ll get the water. [Exit left.] 

Mother. I’ll bring some liniment for your ankle, Fred; 
some salve for your hand, Ned; and Ted, I’ll make a 
poultice to go on your heel. [Exit right.] 

Ned. That wuz purty slick, wuzn’t it, boys? 

Fred. I’ll say it wuz. 

Ted. They both fell for it right along. Pa shore fell hard. 

Fred. If he ketches on, though, he’ll make us feel hard 
about it. 

Reenter Father from left with pail of water 

Father. Skinny Weeks and Chub Peters went by as I 
was getting the water, boys. 

[Boys all jump up hastily.] 

Ned. They did ? 

Ted. Which way’d they go? 

Fred. Did they have their baseball outfit? 

Father. Yes, they had some gloves and a bat and ball. 
They went on down toward the diamond. 

Ted [frisking about room]. Wonder where my glove is 
now. 

Fred [ditto]. Bet I cain’t fin’ my bat. 


72 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Ned. Here’s my ole pud. [Socks his right hand into palm 
of glove.] 

Father. But Ted—your heel. 

Ted. It’s a lot better now, Pa. 

Father. Careful there, with that ankle, Fred; and Ned, 
you’ll ruin your sore hand like that. 

Ned. Th’ glove pertects my han’, Pa. 

Fred. I cain’t hardly feel no pain in my ankle a-tall now 
—th’ swellin’s plum gone, too. I b’lieve a bit o’ exer¬ 
cise’d be good fer it. 

Father. But I’m afraid for you boys to go out and play 
ball today. It might make cripples of you for the rest 
of your lives. Better stay in, I guess, till tomorrow, any¬ 
how, boys. 

Boys. Aw, heck. 

Reenter Mother with bottle, salve box and bowl in hands; 
slung across her shoulder are several bandages. 

Father. Sit down, boys, sit down. Careful now, don’t 
injure yourselves. [As Mother approaches.] Mother, 
what have you here ? 

Mother. This is healing oil for Fred’s ankle [indicates 
bottle]. This is salve for Ned’s hand [indicates box] and 
here I have a milk poultice to go on Ted’s heel. 

[Boys exchange uneasy glances.] 

Father. Good, Mother. That’s simply fine. We’ll have 
the boys well in no time, now. But Mother, put your 
things down here on the table. I’ll set my water down, 
too. Now bring some red pepper to put in that salve and 
poultice. Pepper is awful healing. And bring that 
bottle of mange cure to mix with the healing oil. It’s 
recommended mighty highly as an antiseptic. 

[Exit Mother. Boys exchange glances again. Father 
begins to sharpen his knife on his shoe.] 

Fred. Whatcha doin’, Pa? 

Father. Oh, I’m just getting my knife ready to split that 


THE CRIPPLES 


73 


blister and the stone bruise. Need to be opened good and 
deep, so the medicine will take effect. 

Ted [aside], Bed pepper in a split heel. Gosh. [Shud¬ 
ders.] 

Ned. What about my han’? 

Fred. Say, we’d better call a halt here. He shore means 
bizness. 

Ned. Tell ’im, Fred. [Fred shakes his head.] 

Ted. I will. Say-a-oh-aw-Pa, we ain’t crippled. We all 
played off. 

Father [affecting surprise], Wha-at? 

Ned. We did, Pa. 

Fred. But we won’t no more. 

Ted. We’ll git th’ nex’ water ’thout a bit uv waitin’. 

Reenter Mother, with pepper and mange cure in her 
hands . 

Father. Mighty glad to hear it, boys. Mother, by a little 
magic of mine, I have completely cured the boys, so we 
won’t need all these remedies. Got anything you want 
them to do? 

Mother. No, not just now. 

Father. Thought maybe you had. Boys need exercise. 
Ned. Baseball’s good exercise, ain’t it, Pa? 

Father. Finest in the world. 

[Boys brighten up.] 

Fred. C ’n we go play with Skinny ’n Chub ’n their gang ? 
Father. Well, you could, only that was a little bit of 
magic, too, about Skinny and Chub. I haven’t seen them 
today. [Reflects,] But you boys do need exercise. 
Could you maybe exercise without the others ? 

Ted. You bet we could. 

Father. All right then. [ Pauses , Boys rush to door with 
baseball outfit in hands.] Just a minute, though. Leave 
your baseball goods here and go exercise on the woodpile. 


CURTAIN 


THE NEW BOY 


CHARACTERS 

Harry 1 

John vBirds of a feather 

Tom J 

Helen, Likes fun if not too rough 

Agnes, Gentle as a lamb 

The New Boy 

Discovered: John, Harry, Tom, Helen and Agnes 
seated in schoolroom. 

Harry. Say, kids, what’re we gonna do fer th’ new boy 
that’s cornin’ t’day? 

Agnes. Do for him? Why, I didn’t know that we were 
supposed to do anything for him. 

Helen. Oh, simple, he means some kind of trick to play 
on him, like the boys always do with a new pupil. 

Tom. Yeah, that’s it “perzactly.” We must git up a good 
’n fer this feller, ’cause we ain’t give nobody the third 
degree in a long time now. 

Agnes. Why do you boys always want to do something 
mean or annoying to every new pupil who comes to our 
school? You ought to be as agreeable as possible to a 
stranger. 

John. Aw, can that goody-goody stuff, Aggie. If you 
want to be a * 4 mishunary,” y’ ort t’ go to Africa an’ 
work among th ’ heathens that don’t wear no clo ’es. 

Agnes. I wouldn ’t need to go to Africa to find heathen. I 
can find plenty of them right here. Only difference is 
that they wear a few more clothes and are not quite so 
black. But if you boys had your way, you’d soon be as 
black as the negroes, and I guess about as scarce of 
clothes. 

John. Aw, come off, now, Aggie. You’re really too young 
and sweet to act so old and sour. 


74 


THE NEW BOY 


75 


Helen. That ’s what I say. Don’t try to put on like you’re 
so good. We all know that you’ve already seen that new 
boy and got stuck on him, or you wouldn’t care if the 
boys broke his neck. I like to see a little fun myself, so 
long as no one really gets hurt. 

Harry. Now there’s th’ girl fer me. 

John. Maybe you’d better ask her pa first, though, Harry. 

Harry. Aw, I mean she’s th’ kind of girl I like. One 
that’s not so squeamy that she don’t believe in nobody 
havin’ a good time. 

Tom. Me, too. Them’s my “sentymints perzactly.” 

Helen. What’s this boy’s name, Agnes? 

Agnes. None o’ your business. 

Tom. That’s a funny name, ain’t it, boys ? 

Harry. Shore is. Nunyer Bizness. That is funny. I 
knowed a feller once named Nunley, but I never heared 
of Nunyer before. 

John. Maybe that’s a nickname. 

Agnes. No, it’s not. 

John. Say it is? Well, I wouldn’t a-thought you’d keer 
fer a feller with a name like that. 

Agnes. Like what? 

Tom. What you said. 

Agnes. Why, silly, I didn’t tell his name, did I? 

Harry. Shore you did. I said maybe it wuz Nunyer an’ 
you said, “No, it’s Snot.” 

Agnes. O-h-h! I never either-r. 

Helen. Well, what is his name, then? 

Agnes. If you just have to know, it’s Algernon Percival 
Pendleton-Harris. 

Harry. W ’at a name! 

John. Worse’n ever. 

Helen. I should smile and say so. 

Tom. Aggie’s li’l’ Percy, on him we’ll have mercy. Nix. 

Helen. Bet he carries a vanity and a nail file. 

Agnes. Wait and see. 

Harry. Got purty long curls, ain’t he? 

John, Oh, me, oh, my, won’t we make a killin’? 


76 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Agnes. Yonder lie comes now. See if yon do. 

John. Give ’im th’ Ole Reliable, boys. You know. 

Tom. Sure, Mike, we do. 

Harry. Leave it to us, John. 

Helen. Don’t hurt him very much, boys. 

[Enter New Boy, book satchel slung across his shoulder; 
he wears white collar and cuffs, which may be made of 
paper, a Buster Brown tie, and in his hands he carries 
a lunch basket, drinkmg cup and a bottle of milk. 
Walks timidly toward others.] 

Agnes. Oh, good morning, Percy. 

New Boy [nervously watching boys]. Why, a-good morn¬ 
ing, Agnes. 

Helen [advancing with mischievous smile and offering 
hand]. How do you do, Percy ? My name is Helen. 
New Boy [gingerly takes her hand]. Howdy do, Helen. 

Helen what, though? 

Tom. Her last name is Blazes. 

New Boy Blazes? Helen— Oh, surely not. 

John [goes to New Boy and slaps him vigorously on the 
back.] Surest thing you know, ole top. [Motions Tom to 
get behind New Boy.] Have off yer hat, ole man, an’ put 
yer things down—make yourself comfortable while you 
can. [New Boy puts things down.] 

Harry. We’re awful glad you come, Pussy, o-a-er I mean 
Percy. 

John. Tickled to death. 

[By this time Tom has worked around behind the New 
Boy, where he crouches. John makes ready to shove the 
new pupil over. Without seeming to look behind , the New 
Boy kicks Tom over, then pitches forward in such a way 
that he butts John in the stomach and at the same time 
swings out one hand to box Harry’s jaw.] 

New Boy. Oh, excuse me, boys, I must have lost my balance. 
Agnes. Goody, goody, goody! 

Helen. Did you ever see the like? 


THE NEW BOY 


77 


John [caressing his stomach ]. You got an awful hard 
head, fer sich a name. 

Harry. Say, feller—be keerful ’bout accidents like that. 

Tom. I wuz stoopin’ over t’ tie up my shoe when you 
pitched into me an ’ nearly busted a rib loose. How come, 
anyhow ? 

New Boy [tearing off collar, tie and cuffs]. Yeah, [in 
changed tones] how come, anyhow? I would say it. Say, 
fellers, yerse’f. Why’n’t y’ spring sumpin’ new? That 
Ole Reliable wuz wore out ’fore George Washington 
chopped down his pa’s favorite cherry sprout. 

Agnes [horrified]. Such lang-uage. Why, Percy! 

New Boy. Don’t Percy me. Can that ole stuff right now. 

Helen. But that’s your name, isn’t it? 

New Boy. Not much, it ain’t. 

Harry. The joke’s on us, Percival. Guess we’ll have to 
call you by your full name for the way you got back at us. 

Tom. Say Percival Algernon, then. 

John. And Pendleton-Harris, too. 

Helen. He deceives his name. 

New Boy. But that ain’t my name. 

Agnes. Why, you told me that was your name. 

New Boy. Yeah, but I’se jest aJdddin’ you. Lissen, fellers, 
my name is Bill Stubbs, better known as Grubworm 
Stubbs. 

Agnes. How shocking! 

Helen. That’s fine. 

New Boy. An’ where I come from wuz so tough that th’ 
canary birds all sung bass. Now you fellers go git sand¬ 
paper collars an’ rough up yer necks a bit an’ I’ll let you 
see if you c’n clean up on me. 


CURTAIN 


THE POETS CORNERED 


CHAKACTEKS 

Sue, Pearl, Helen and Clementine 
Enter Sue, holding manuscript in her hand 


Sue. 

Now, dear friends, whom here I see, 

I have some words to say to thee. 

We’ve studied poetry in our school 

Until I think our teacher’s a— [clears throat] rule 

Is very good for old and young. 

So here tonight, our ‘ 4 pomes ’ ’ we’ve brung. 

[Goes to door.] 

, Come right in, girls. [Girls enter.] Let’s each one bow 
To show the crowd we all know how. 

[All make elaborate bows to audience, then sit 
in semicircle] 

Of which is best or which is worst 
You now may judge. Pearl, read first. 

Pearl [rises]. 

My name is Pearl, I am a gem. 

[No, not the kind that means a him.] 

The kind of gem I spoke about 
Is smooth and round as a piggy’s snout. 

[That don’t sound good, but it made the rhyme— 

That’s what we must watch all the time.] 

Capital P-e-a-r-1, 

If you ’ll remember, my name will spell. 

Without the P, my name is Earl— 

A tomboy right- 


78 



THE POETS CORNERED 


79 


Others. Hush, Pearl. [Pearl sits.] 

Sue [nVes]. 

We’re really gifted—there is no doubt— 

Which all of you will soon find out. 

And now we hope you’ll lend your ears 
And get some buckets to catch your tears, 

For now our Helen will relate 
A poetic tale of her sad fate. [Sits.] 

Helen [rises]. 

My dearest friends, when I was small, 

I chanced one day to catch a fall. 

[Or so it’s said by one and all, 

Though it seems I was caught and not the fall.] 

Well, the hard old floor just sprained my leg, 
And raised a bump like a big goose egg 
Right ’tween my eyes, so I couldn’t see, 

And my neck got twisted as crooked as could be. 

As I got older, my neck alone 
Seemed dead bent to get full grown. 

It got so big it spread my fame 

And caused me to get a queer nickname. 

[Pause.] 

Until a surgeon reduced the wreck 
I was called.“The Neck.” [$i£s.] 

Others. Hel-en! 

Sue [rising]. 

Now wipe your eyes, don’t look so blue. 

Maybe your nose needs a small wipe, too. 

But we’ve another bright star to shine- 

I’ll introduce our Clementine. 



80 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Clementine [should be the fleshiest girl in school ]. 

I may be last, though far from least. 

My slogan is, “Eat Baker’s yeast.” 

It helps the body; it helps the brain. 

Just try it yourself—new power you’ll gain. 

If in this life wealth, fame, you seek, 

Oh, hear me as I truly speak. 

[Pauses, then goes on solemnly and slowly .] 

If you would be healthy, wealthy and wice, 

Eat Baker’s yeast—you’re bound to rise. 

Sue [in stage whisper, pulling Clementine’s dress]. 
Oh, Clementine, now heed my pull. 

Clementine [turning]. 

Let me go. Of my subject I’m full. 

[Back to audience.] 

But if yeast gets jarred, it’s no good at all, 

And she’s jarred me, thus causing my fall. 

Sue [rising]. 

Of spontaneous combustion you’ve no doubt heard. 
[No, composition’s the word] 

Spontaneous composition we often have tried. 

We thus have made poems till all of us cried. 

So now for a close—a gran’ day fine awl, 
Spontaneously we’ll give, “The Story of Poll.” 

Girls [all rise]. 

Pearl’s our starter. Now start at the start 
And render the Prelude to each waiting heart. 


THE POETS CORNERED 


81 


Pearl [majestically]. 

Have you heard our story ? Nay ? I thought so. 

Well, all of this happened many long years ago, 

When the world was mew and coffee and pie 
Both sold for a nickel anywhere you’d buy. 

It’s a gripping story of love and romance 
In the days when men wore close-fitting pants. 

So list to our story so sad, yet so true. 

I’ve given the prelude and now I’m through. 

Helen [ tragically ]. 

’Twas a cold, bitter night and the wind howled on 
When to see his fair Poll brave Charley had gone. 

Poll was a pet name used only by Charles 

For her temper was polished—she hid all her snarls. 

It chanced that as Poll went to dress, it was cold, 

So she used a long bodkin, her shawl to hold. 

[Helen closes, all look to Clementine, who has seated 
herself again.] 

Sue [after a short pause]. 

You should rise, Clementine, to say the least. 

Clementine. 

Wait just a moment, till I eat my yeast. 

[Puts a piece of candy in her mouth and swallows it.] 
[Rises], 

As Charley was hastening his dear love to meet, 

He thought of the manner in which he would greet. 

At last he was there. ... To his breast see her dart. 

[Makes gesture of embracing some one, then steps back, 
arms, hanging listlessly at side, head drooping.] 


82 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


But that fearful sharp bodkin has gone through his heart. 

She groaned then to see his blood slowly gush- 

[Clementine looks pleadingly to Helen, Helen to 
Pearl and Pearl to Sue, who assumes attitude of 
deep study.] 

All [after slight pause]. 

We’ve run out of rhymes— We’ll now have to hush. 


CURTAIN 



BERTHA BRINGS HOME THE BACON 


CHARACTERS 

Mr. Hood, Embarrassed financially 

Vi, Mrs. Hood, Embarrassed by poor relations 

Jenkins, The Hood's butler 

Bertha Snodgrass, Hood's relative 

Mr. McGee, Banker 

Mrs. McGee, Aristocratic wife 

Discovered: Hood seated , head hidden by paper. Mrs. 
Hood, or “Vi,” stands near window toying with some 
flowers or ferns. 

Hood [lowering paper]. Look here, Vi, it says here that a 

prominent society woman, a regular- How do you 

pronounce that word ? 

Vi [annoyed]. What word? 

Hood. This one here in front of dame. 

Vi [snappishly]. How can I tell? 

Hood. Why, at the top of your voice if you keep climbing 
the scale with it. I suppose, though, that your voice is 
imitating your attempts to mount the social ladder and 
hobnob with the high flyers. 

Vi. Be more refined, Hood. The servants might hear you. 

Hood [mockingly]. Be more refined, Vi, the firemen might 
hear you. 

Vi [indignantly]. The firemenf Haven’t I told you to 
forget the firemen? Find yourself some new friends— 
those fire department boys are so common. 

Hood. There's where you are wrong, Vi. Those fellows 
have all long ago gained ontree, as you’d call it, to the 
best homes in town. 

Vi [sarcastically]. You really don’t say so. When, pray 
tell me, were they admitted? 

Hood. When the best homes got on fire. 

Vi [exasperated]. You are hopeless, Henry Hood, from 
your name to your taste for coarse jokes. 

83 



84 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Hood. Why, of course, my dear. 

Vi. Refinement you do not possess. 

Hood. No? But I got a mighty nice little old refinery, 
ain’t I, Yi? 

Vi. Oh, yes, yes, yes. But I’m tired of hearing so much 
about that refinery. It’s enough for you to come home 
from it and into the presence of my friends and me, look¬ 
ing like a garage man. And, pray, will you please re¬ 
frain from describing to my callers again, how you make 
gasoline on a Para rubber baste ? 

Hood. Pair o’ what? 

Yi [somewhat proudly ]. Oh, I have absorbed some of your 
technical terms and expressions. And it is some consola¬ 
tion to know that you use only the best and most well 
known raw materials. 

Hood. Yes, but what raw materials are you talking about, 
anyway ? 

Yi [coyly]. Oh, I know a lot more about your work than 
you think. 

Hood. Yes, I’m sure that you do. But what was that you 
were talking about a bit ago ? Pair o ’ what ? 

Yi [proudly], I said, Para rubber baste. Didn’t think 
that I knew, did you? 

Hood. Um—er— a —oh, yes, to be sure. 

Yi [sitting on his chair arm]. Now you see, I am interested 
in your business, even if I do despise the horrid old grease 
and oil. I’ve told several of my friends who have in¬ 
fluence, that everything about your establishment was 
most exclusive. 

Hood [indulgently]. What did you tell them about its ex¬ 
clusiveness ? 

Yi. Oh, I made quite an impression on Mrs. McGee, the 
banker’s wife. I explained to her that you used nothing 
hut the purest and most expensive Para rubber to baste 
the edges of your tanks. 

Hood. Indeed. 

Yi. Yes. Every one was interested, and Mrs. McGee said 
that she had heard her husband speak of elastic cur- 


BEETHA BEINGS HOME THE BACON 


85 


rency, but she did not dream that gasoline had been im¬ 
proved to that extent. 

Hood. Oh, she did? 

Yi [pleased]. Yes, she did. Then I told her that you had 
to work on the idea for a long time before you finally per¬ 
fected it. I invented a little bit there, to impress her 
more, you see. 

Hood. I should say so. 

Vi. But I certainly impressed her, though. I made her 
believe that your product was rapidly taking the day, so 
that you would be known soon as a captain of industry 
in your line. 

Hood. Fine, fine. Well have to start you out on the road 
for our gas and oils yet. But did you think to tell all of 
them to call for my gas by its trade name of ‘ ‘ Hood’s Hot 
Shot?” 

Vi. Oh, no, Henry, I couldn’t think of mentioning such a 
commonplace title, so I gave your gas a new name. 

Hood [displeased ]. You did? 

Vi. Yes, and such an appropriate one, too. You see, I told 
them all a great lot about the Para rubber baste— 

Hood [interrupting irritatedly ]. Parrafin ba-, but 

that’s all right. Go ahead. What else did you tell ’em? 

Vi. Oh, I used a lot of terms I didn’t quite understand 
myself, like Pacific gravel tea and destination tests, but 
they failed to understand them at all, so I am sure that I 
helped you a lot. 

Hood. Why, of course, I am sure of it, too. But how could 
you tell when they were favorably impressed ? 

Vi. Oh, they asked so many questions and when I explained 
in all the big words I could think of, they pretended to 
understand perfectly. 

Hood. Probably they did. 

Vi. Mrs. McGee was so delighted to learn that steel tanks 
could be basted with Para rubber. 

Hood. I should think so. 

Vi. She means to ask her husband to baste his bank vault 
in the same manner. 



86 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Hood. I’m sure he will. Then the doors of the vault will 
be yawning all of the time. 

Vi. Mrs. Bruntleigh, though, was more embarrassing. She 
asked me in what way our Elastic Gas was superior to 
other kinds. 

Hood. Of course you told her. 

Vi. No. I wasn’t sure that I knew that myself. But she 
didn’t find out that I didn’t know, for I told her you 
might not want me to reveal one of your trade secrets. 

Hood. That was a pretty good dodge. 

Vi. Yes, I wound her up by saying that you had not yet 
patented your process of manufacturing gasoline on a 
Para rubber baste. 

Hood. There’s no patent on using a parrafin ba— Oh— 
ah—go ahead. 

Yi. Well, that’s all of that part; but what can I tell people 
is the advantage of Elastic Gas ? 

Hood. Oh—a—tell ’em it ’ll stretch out for more miles. 

Vi. Why didn’t I think of that? 

Hood. Oh, you didn’t have the ‘‘pull, ’’ I guess. You were 
mighty clever to think of all that other stuff, though. 

Vi. Oh, Henry, do you think so ? 

Hood. Sure I think so. No one else in the whole world 
would ever have thought of what you have told your 
friends. 

Vi. Oh, Henry! Did you say a bit ago that you wanted 
me to tell you a word ? 

Hood. Why, yes, I believe I did. I had almost forgotten 
it. [Turns paper.] Here it is. Some kind of dame, I 
reckon, but I don’t get any sense out of it. 

Vi [looks at word indicated ]. What? That? Why, that 
is “mesdames.” [Pronounces it “may-dams.”] 

Hood. Say that some more now. 

Vi. May-dams, may-dams. 

Hood. What’s that ? 

Vi. Why, that is French. 

Hood. Maybe so, but part of it sounds like United States. 

Vi. Oh, no, dear, it’s all French. 

Hood. Not mine. 


BERTHA BRINGS HOME THE BACON 


87 


Enter Jenkins from right 

Jenkins [bowing]. A person to see you, ma’am. 

Yi. Where’s her card? 

Jenkins. Well, ma’am, judgin’ from her looks, I’d say 
that she prob ’ly got one in the Post Office. 

Hood. What’s the idea, Jenkins? What has the Post Of¬ 
fice to do with the caller? 

Jenkins. Oh, I had an idea that she might have a card 
from Greenburg, or Middleville, or some such place. She’s 
prob ’ly been away from there long enough. 

Yi. What does she want? 

Jenkins. Askin’ your pardon, ma’am, but you’d really 
better ask ’er that yourself, ma’am; she wouldn’t tell me. 

Hood. Sure, go bring her in, Jenkins. She may be an old 
friend. 

Jenkins [bows]. Yes, sir. I’ll do my best, but she don’t 
seem like she’s used to much handlin’. 

[Jenkins turns away and opens door to go out. As door 
opens, enter Bertha. She wears ridiculous, “up-¬ 
country” clothes and carries a bandbox, old-fashioned 
valise and a large parasol.] 

Bertha. What kind o’ place do you call this, anyhow, 
where a body has got to wait in a little, dark pigeon-hole 
of a place an’ cool their heels, while the family indulges 
in a debate on the value of pork and beans as a disinfec¬ 
tant ? 

Jenkins [deprecatingly]. I told you so, sir an’ ma’am. 

Bertha [ turning upon Jenkins with parasol]. An’ I told 
you, too, Feather-legs. You look just like one o’ them 
old, big, feather-legged roosters a-struttin’ aroun’. What 
made you slam that door so hard on my foot? Don’t you 
know a lady when you see one ? 

Jenkins [head high, but averted]. Yes, when I see one. 

Yi [frigidly]. Will you please tell me what your business 
is? 

Bertha [aghast]. Business? I’ll give you to know I’m a 


88 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


perfect lady myself. I am not in business. Pa makes a 
decent livin' without us gals a-workin’. Pa, he's in the 
hide an’ taller business, though, if that’ll do you any 
good. 

Hood [soothingly]. Of course, young lady, but what is the 
meaning of your intrusion here? [Looks at her shoes.] 

Bertha [glancing down]. I ain’t got no intrusion. Are 
you s ’posed to wear one ? 

Vi. What do you mean by coming here? Are you insane? 

Bertha. That’s a fine question to ask a body. No! I’m 
not insane, but I must be in the worst bug house in the 
country. You all act plumb crazy. Why, I never wuz 
treated so in my life, an ’ I never treated a dog like you've 
treated me, me bein’ comp’ny, too. 

Hood. Company ? I told you, Vi, that it might be some of 
our relations. 

Vi. You may go, Jenkins. [Waits till Jenkins goes out.] 
Something is liable to be exposed here. 

Bertha. Well, now, if it’s me you’re tryin’ to insinuate, 
you c’n just let Feather-legs stay, fer I am a perfect lady 
myself, an’ I’ll not expose nothin’. Judgin’ from the 
looks of your dress, though, he wouldn’t be very easy to 
shock. 

Hood. There you are, Yi. [Lcrnghs.] I’ve told you about 
your low-necked, backless gowns. 

Bertha. Well, ain’t it about time for you all to ask me to 
be seated an’ have off my things? 

Hood. Oh, of course. Be seated, Miss—a— What is your 
name? 

Bertha. I would say it, now. My name is Bertha Snod¬ 
grass [facing Hood.] An’ I’m your Ma’s own sister’s 
child. 

Yi. Heavens! 

Hood. Cousin Bertha! How do you do? I’m mighty glad 
to see you. You must pardon our seeming rudeness; you 
see, we were not expecting anyone tonight. Bertha, this 
is my wife. 

Bertha. Violet, ain’t it? I’ve heared Cousin Asa speak 


BERTHA BRINGS HOME THE BACON 


89 


of her. I’m mighty glad to make your acquaintance, 
Cousin Violet. [ Offers hand.] 

Vi [ ignoring Bertha’s hand]. How do you do, Miss Snod¬ 
grass. 

Bertha. Yes, I’ve heared Cousin Asa talk about how 
purty you wuz. You know he saw you all when you wuz 
both in Davenport right after you wuz married. [To Vi.] 
I reckon, though, you musta changed a heap since then. 
You ain’t what I’d call uncommon purty, like I ’lowed 
you’d be. Your complexion is too yaller. Guess you may 
be bilious. Now, I’ve got some awful good liver medicine 
here, that I ’ll let you have some of before we go to bed. 

Vi [icily]. Thanks. But I won’t deprive you. 

Bertha. Not a-tall. I’ve got a plenty, I reckin, fer both 
of us. You can have some of it, too, if you want it, Henry. 

Hood. Oh, no, I don’t think I need any of it, Bertha. Give 
it to Vi. 

Bertha. Well, it wouldn’t hurt you none. Pa takes it all 
the time. Say, have you all done had supper ? 

Vi. We always dine at six o’clock. 

Bertha. Well, that’s funny, now. We allays have sup¬ 
per ’bout the same time. But I just got offa the train an’ 
come right on up here, so I ain’t had a bite to eat since I 
finished up my cheese an’ crackers on the cars. 

Hood. I’ll have Jenkins fix something for you. [Rises and 
crosses to door as if to call Jenkins.] 

Bertha. Now don’t go to no extry trouble fer me. If 
you’ve got any cold vittles left, they’ll just do fine. 
Where’s the pantry? Reckin I can help myself in my 
own cousin’s house, cain’t I ? 

Hood. Sure you can. [Goes to left and opens door.] Go 
right through that door and make yourself at home. 

Vi. What are you going to do, Henry? 

Hood. Do ? What do you mean ? 

Vi. With your cousin. We can’t have her here. I’d be 
humiliated to death. 

Hood. Seems like she’s going to have herself here—she’s 
already taken possession. 


90 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Vi. But, Henry—think of my friends. We must get rid 
of her before she ruins us with them. 

Hood. Wait a minute now, Vi. Don’t go too far. Bertha 
is my cousin. 

Vi. Well, you can’t help that, can you? 

Hood. No, but I don’t want to make it any worse. Do you 
suppose that I would hurt Bertha’s feelings for the sake 
of all your high-headed friends? 

Vi. Not even for me ? 

Hood. Not even for anyone. Bertha is going to stay here 
until she gets ready to leave. She is flesh of my flesh and 
blood of my blood. 

Vi. She makes my flesh creep and my blood curdle. 

Enter Jenkins 

Jenkins. Mr. and Mrs. McGee to see both of you. 

Vi [hastily] . Tell them we are not at home. 

Hood [ intercepting ]. No, bring them in. I want to see 
McGee about a loan for a couple of thousand. 

Exit Jenkins 

Vi. We’ll be sure to be disgraced, if Bertha comes back in 
while they are here. Mrs. McGee would not know what 
to think of her. 

Hood. Well, you can keep Mrs. McGee out of the way, if 
you think she might faint. I need the two thousand 
pretty badly and McGee has a barrel of money. 

Vi. Well, then you’d better not let him see your cousin. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. McGee, followed by Jenkins 

Vi. Oh, my dear Mrs. McGee, do come right in. How 
pleasant to have you call like this. Take off your things 
and sit down. We were just wishing for you to come. 
[Asidef\ I hope she won’t stay long. Bertha may be back 
any moment. 

Hood. Come in, McGee. Come in. Jenkins, take their 
wraps. 

McGee. No, no. We can’t stay a minute. Thanks, I’ll 
keep them, Jenkins. 

Jenkins retires 


BERTHA BRINGS HOME THE BACON 


91 


Mrs. McGee. We were on our way to the show and we just 
dropped by to see if you would go with us. I wanted Mr. 
Hood to explain his process fully to my husband. 

Hood. Oh, Lord! 

McGee. Why, Mr. Hood. What’s wrong? 

Hood. Oh—I—have a pain sometimes. 

McGee. Too bad, too bad. Is it gone now? 

Hood. Yes. It leaves as quick as it comes, sometimes. 

Mrs. McGee. Do you feel like explaining your process to 
Charles? 

Hood. Why—a—-yes, I’d be glad to, on the way to the 
show. 

Yi. Oh, no, we can’t go to the show tonight, Henry. Some 
other time, Mr. McGee, if you will come back, he can tell 
you. 

Hood. Why, of course we can go. I want to— 

Vi. But your—our guest. 

McGee. If you have a guest, bring your guest, too. 

Hood. Sure. She’d like to go, I know. 

McGee. That would just make the car full. 

Vi. But she isn’t- Oh, she isn’t feeling quite well to¬ 

night. 

Hood. Why, she is —[catches warning, glance from Vi.] 
Yes, that’s right. She has got meningitis. You folks 
just spend the evening with us. I want to talk with you, 
McGee, anyhow. 

McGee. I’d as soon as not. Picture shows don’t inter¬ 
est me. 

Mrs. McGee. But your guest— If she is ill, we would 
disturb her. 

Hood. Not a bit. She won’t care. 

Vi. You know she is so nervous, Henry. 

Hood. Why, how in the —no, she won ’t mind at all. 

Mrs. McGee. Well, I’m not so anxious to go to the show, 
either. Let’s stay, then, Charles. 

McGee. As you say. 

Vi. Mercy! 

Mrs. McGee [concerned]. My dear Mrs. Hood! 



92 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Hood. She has pains, too, sometimes. [Calls.] Jenkins. 
[Jenkins enters.] Take Mr. and Mrs. McGee’s wraps 
now, Jenkins; they have decided to stay. 

Jenkins takes wraps and retires again 

Hood [to McGee], Let’s go into the next room where we 
can smoke. 

McGee. As yon say. 

Hood and McGee go out at center 

Mrs. McGee. Maybe your guest would like for us to come 
and sit a while with her. 

Vi. Oh, no! I mean, I’m sure she wouldn’t. You see, I 
think she is sleeping a little bit. I’ll tell you—while the 
men are talking and she is asleep, let’s walk down to the 
corner, anyhow. I want to get some—air. 

Mrs. McGee [curiously observing Vi]. Are you not feel¬ 
ing well tonight, either? 

Vi. No, I’m not myself at all. 

Mrs. McGee. Very well, then, I’ll go with you. 

Vi. Wait a moment, then, I’ll get my coat. We can get 
yours as we go out. 

Exit Vi center 

Mrs. McGee. Rather strange, I think, to leave one’s guests 
like this. 


Enter Jenkins 

Jenkins. What did you want, ma’am? 

Mrs. McGee. Nothing, Jenkins. I was thinking it strange 
how your mistress is forsaking her guest. 

Jenkins [looking about cautiously]. Well, if you’s to ask 
me, ma ’am, I’d say she was a strange guest. 

Mrs. McGee. Oh, she is. Is she very ill ? 

Jenkins. Purty cross, ma’am. 

Enter Bertha, munching piece of cream pie , 
which she observes carefully 


BERTHA BRINGS'HOME THE BACON 


93 


Bertha. Violet can make awful good pies. I like these 
here kind without no roof on ’em. I must get her to show 
me how to make ’em. [Sees Mrs. McGee and Jenkins.] 
Howdy do. 

Mrs. McGee [surveys her coldly}. Who is this person, 
Jenkins? 

Jenkins. I beg to be excused, ma’am. I don’t know her 
name. 

Bertha. Well, I guess I can introduce myself. I’m Miss 
Bertha Snodgrass, of Pitchford, Ohio. Who are you ? 

Mrs. McGee [musing]. One of the servants, I suppose. 

Bertha. Oh, you are? Well, I’d a-never thought it. You 
don’t look a good mate for Feather-legs there. 

Jenkins. Miss—whatever kind of grass you said, you 
made a mistake. 

Bertha. So it would seem. [To Mrs. McGee.] What 
does Vi call you? Katie or Nora? [Mrs. McGee turns 
away.] Oh, don’t feel bad about it, now. I believe in 
treatin’ ever’body like they’s human and I’ve seen some 
mighty good people that had waited on tables. [Mrs. 
McGee elevates head and sniffs.] Oh, so you’re one o’ 
them hoity-toity kind, then, are you? Well, I’ll take the 
starch out of your neck yet before I leave. 

Enter Vi 

Vi. Did I keep you waiting long, Mrs. McGee? 

Jenkins. Here’s where friendship is liable to cease. I 
don’t want to be a witness. 

Exit Jenkins left 

Mrs. McGee. Oh, no, you were not gone long, but did you 
know when you left that I would be subjected to such an¬ 
noyance and insult as I have been? 

Vi. I fail to understand. Bertha, what have you done to 
Mrs. McGee? 

Bertha. Done to ’er? Nothin’, Vi. An’ if I’s you, I 
wouldn’t try to humor ’er up, neither. I know how hired 


94 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


help is. If you start givin’ one inch to ’em, they’ll take 
a mile. 

Vi. But, Bertha, this is Mrs. McGee. 

Bertha. I don’t care if it is. I guess there are plenty of 
servants as good or better than she is. 

Mrs. McGee. I am going. I shall not be insulted longer. 
[Turns aivay majestically. Vi runs to her and takes her 
arm.] 

Vi. My dear Mrs. McGee, please don’t go. Let me explain. 

Mrs. McGee [spitefully]. How can you explain her? 
[Points to Bertha.] 

Bertha. Oh, that’s easy. The same Lord made me that 
made you—only when he made you his foot was asleep, 
so you got all the feelin ’ out of it. 

Vi. Bertha, what on earth are you talking about? Mrs. 
McGee is not my servant. Far from it. She is the wife 
of Banker McGee and I was pleased to call her my friend 
until now; but from what I surmise, I could not blame 
her if she never spoke to me again. 

Bertha [musing]. McGee, McGee. 

Mrs. McGee. I scarcely know what to say or think, Mrs. 
Hood. I feel quite sure, since thinking the matter over, 
that you did not know what was happening while you 
were out of the room. 

Bertha. McGee, McGee, McGee. [To Mrs. McGee.] Is 
your husband’s name Charley? 

Mrs. McGee [to Vi]. Is the woman insane? 

Bertha. Look here, that’s the second time that fool ques¬ 
tion has been asked about me tonight. I’ll just say this- 
much in answer to it, though. When ever’body in Pitch- 
ford took the intelligence test I made a grade next to the 
preacher. An’ what is more, Mrs. Highfaluter, you told 
me yourself that you wuz one o’ the servants an’ I can 
prove it by Feather-legs. I never insulted nobody in 
my life, so I don’t want you to think that I’d start out 
on you. 

Vi. Bertha, Bertha. 

[Mrs. McGee goes at right, Vi clinging to her.] 


BERTHA BRINGS HOME THE BACON 


95 


Bertha. I’m gettin’ tired o’ bein’ Bertha’d so much. If 
that’s Charley McGee’s wife, I’m gonna tell him how 
foolish she’s acted, too. 

Enter Jenkins timidly 

Jenkins [nervously]. If you please, Miss. 

Bertha. Don’t you fool with me, Feather-legs—I ain’t 
in no humor to be meddled with. I might hurt you while 
I’m stirred up so. 

Jenkins. Take some of your liver medicine and settle 
down. 

Bertha [pacing up and down]. This place must be a 
’sylum. 

[Jenkins comes toward her , wagging hands, deprecat - 
ingly.] 

Jenkins. There, there, now, Miss, keep cool, keep cool, 
keep cool. 

Bertha [seizes parasol] . Don’t you lay them claws on me, 
Feather-legs—I’ll knock you cold. 

Jenkins [falling back]. Now, Miss. 

Bertha. I won’t, either. I ’m the best woman ball player 
in Pitchford an’ if you bat another eye at me, I’ll knock 
that bullet head o ’ yourn for a home run. 

[Hood puts head cautiously inside door at center , but fails 
to see Bertha.] 

Hood [in loud whisper], Jenkins. 

Jenkins. Yes, sir. 

Hood [still whispering]. Are the ladies out? 

Jenkins. Yes, sir, and I’ll be out, too, in a minute, if you 
don’t help me. 

Hood [opens door a little more]. Where’s that bottle, Jen¬ 
kins? 

Jenkins. Here’s the battle, sir. I need reinforcements, 
too. 

Hood [still outside]. No, not battle. I said bottle. Some¬ 
thing with a kick in it. 


96 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Jenkins. Yon could get that right here, too, I guess. 

Hood [ steps inside]. Why, Jenkins, I don’t know what to 
think. 

Jenkins. No, sir, I don’t, either. 

Hood. Why, what do you mean, Bertha ? 

Bertha. I mean business. This whole house is full of 
lunatics an’ I wuzn’t takin’ any chances on lettin’ that 
one-eyed gander lay his webs on me. 

Hood. Oh, Jenkins won’t hurt you. 

Bertha. I know he won’t. 

Jenkins. Mrs. Hood told me to come in here and get her 
quiet, sir. 

Bertha. I’m not a baby, you old spraddle-footed fool. 

Hood. That’s all right, Bertha. Put down your parasol, 
you won’t need it. 

Bertha. I might. If that feller fools with me again, his 
life insurance is goin’ to be payable. 

Hood. Forget it, Bertha, the ground is too hard for grave- 
digging. I’m hunting a stimulant for my guest. 

Bertha. I got some asafetida in my grip. 

Hood [ looking about]. No, no, something to drink. A 
beverage. 

Jenkins. I think the bottle’s empty, sir. I’ll bring in an¬ 
other. 

Exit Jenkins left. Enter McGee at center 

McGee. You stayed so long that I decided the flavor must 
be better in here than elsewhere. 

Hood. 1 was detained. I want you to meet my cousin, Miss 
Snodgrass, Mr. McGee. 

McGee. How d’ y’ do, Miss Snodgrass? [Bows formally.] 

Bertha [grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously ]. I 
thought it. I thought it. How are you, Charley McGee ? 

McGee. How did you know my name was Charley? 

Bertha. Well, is that the first time you’ve been called 
Charley, since you left Pitchford with one o’ ma’s towels 
in your grip? 


BEETHA BEINGS HOME THE BACON 


97 


McGee. Pitchford? Pitchford, Ohio? Have you ever 
been in Pitchford, Ohio? 

Bertha. There’s where I still get catalogues from the 
mail order houses. 

McGee. And you say your name is- 

Bertha [interrupting]. Bertha Snodgrass. 

McGee. Well, well, I remember you now. You were still 
wearing hair ribbons, though, when I worked in the 
Pitchford Bank and boarded with your mother. 

Hood. You boarded with her folks? Sit down and let’s 
hear about it. 

[All three s#.] 

McGee. Sure did. About fifteen years ago. 

Bertha [reminiscently]. Yes, I was wearin’ ribbons an’ 
I remember one time you got one of them an’ said you 
wuz goin’ to send it to your sweetheart. 

McGee. Did I send it? 

Bertha. Yes, you did, so I got a silk scarf of yours an’ cut 
it up to make me another one. 

Hood. So you two are old acquaintances. Jenkins, hurry 
up with that bottle. We must have a drink on that. I 
know Bertha won’t object. 

Bertha. No, I don’t care. Pa allays takes his drink—of 
sarsaparilla. 

Jenkins [off stage]. I can’t find any, sir. 

McGee. Let it go. Seeing this young friend of mine again 
brings up memories that are quite intoxicating them¬ 
selves. 

Bertha. I can remember a lot, too. For instance, Ma 
never has got through talkin’ about that towel you car¬ 
ried off when you left. 

McGee. That towel? Oh, yes, I remember that. [To 
Hood.] You see, when I got home and unpacked I found 
the thing in my suit case. I suppose it must have got in 
somehow with the rest. 

Bertha. That’s what I told Ma; but she said she never 
knowed of a towel that could walk, jump or crawl. 



98 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


McGee. I shall send her the best bathroom set I can buy 
tomorrow. 

Bertha. You needn’t to. We still ain’t got no bathroom. 
You might send a new linoleum, though, to put by the 
kitchen stove to set the tub on. 

McGee. I’ll do that. [Rises.] And, by the way, Hood 
[slaps him on back] about that loan you mentioned—I 
am sure the securities you offer are good, but, security 
or not, the nephew of Tabitha Snodgrass and the cousin 
of Bertha could borrow all the money I have. 

Vi and Mrs. McGee enter at right talking 

Mrs. McGee. Then I’m sure you were not to blame, so 
we shall let the subject drop. [Halts: at seeing others.] 
Would we not better be going, Charles? 

McGee. No. I want you to meet a good friend of mine, 
who is also Mr. Hood’s cousin. Miss Snodgrass, this is 
my wife. 

Bertha. So you are the one who got my ribbon. [Crosses 
to her, hand outstretched.] Now, don’t think for a min¬ 
ute that I hold anything against you for pretending to 
be a servant. I know you are a dear at heart, or Charley 
McGee never would have married you. 

Mrs. McGee [takes Bertha’s hand and holds it]. You, then, 
are the little girl who / was a companion for Charles. 
I only hope that you will become as much a friend of 
mine as you were of his. 

Vi [surprised]. Strange things will happen. 

Hood. Sure they will, Vi. On the strength of my rela¬ 
tionship to Bertha, Mr. McGee is going to lend me that 
two thousand. 

Bertha. He allays wuz free-hearted. Why, one time he 
forgot all about havin’ a date to take the cashier’s wife 
an’ children to the city till after he’d done let Pa wear 
out his best pair o’ pants. 


CURTAIN 


THE PACIFIST 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Penfield, The Mother Roger, The Son 

Discovered: Mrs. Penfield seated, head in hands as if 
meditating. Across from her Roger sits on floor engaged 
with funny paper. 

Mrs. Penfield [after gazing abstractedly outside for a few 
moments, then regarding Roger with a sober air, solilo¬ 
quizes] . I declare, I don’t know what on earth to do with 
that boy. He is driving me distracted. Mrs. Faulkner 
says that he and her Timothy have been fighting again. 
Whippings seem to have no effect on him—maybe I could 
make an appeal to his sense of shame. I ’ll try it. [Calls.] 
Roger, come here. 

Roger [lowers paper and raises head to disclose a black eye 
and long red streak on cheek, as a scratch. Lampblack 
and red paint will provide realistic results, if properly 
applied]. I c’n hear, I reckin, ’thout cornin’ there. 

Mrs. Penfield [firmly]. I said, come here. 

Roger. I c’n hear, I tole y’. 

Mrs. Penfield. Now, see here, I said come here, and you’d 
better hear before there is trouble here. 

Roger [going to her on hands and feet]. Yes’m. 

Mrs. Penfield. Now, Roger, I want you to be sensible. 

Roger. How can I ? Y ’ say I’m jest like Pa, an ’ y ’ say he’s 
a blockhead. 

Mrs. Penfield. Your father is not in this discussion. 

Roger. No? Well, maybe not, but I heerd Gran’ma say 
that he wuz in an awful mess. 

Mrs. Penfield [sternly]. Will you hush that? I made no 
reference to your Grandmother, either. 

Roger. Well, I guess she wuz a-makin’ ref’rence to you. 

Mrs. Penfield. That is entirely outside the present ques¬ 
tion, too, and it doesn’t amount to anything. 

99 


100 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Roger. That’s what she said about your brother. 

Mrs. Penfield. Don’t say that again, sir. You should 
have more respect for your Uncle Jim than that. Do you 
hear me ? Don’t say it again. 

Roger. I never said it about him. ’Twuz Gran’ma, 

Mrs. Penfield [sniffing]. Well, don’t quote your Grandma 
to me again. 

Roger. Aw, Ma, what y’ talkin’ ’bout? Y’ know I cain’t 
' 11 tote ’ ’ Gran ’ma nowheres. She’s too fat. 

Mrs. Penfield. I said quote, son. Q-u-o-t-e, quote, 

Roger. Oh! What’s that? 

Mrs. Penfield. Why, quote means to repeat the exact 
words of another. 

Roger. Another w T hat ? 

Mrs. Penfield. Another person. The preacher quotes 
scripture, your teacher probably quotes poetry sometimes. 
Anyone who repeats what some one else has said, is quot¬ 
ing, 

Roger. Well, say, Ma, why don’t you wimmen change th’ 
name uv yer “Quiltin’ Circle” to th’ “Quotin’ Circle”? 

Mrs. Penfield. I won’t have any more of your smart talk, 
now, Roger. I want to talk to you in a serious attitude. 

Roger. Where is it? 

Mrs. Penfield. Where is what? 

Roger. Th ’ Sears-Atty Two. I never saw a car with only 
two cylinders, though. 

Mrs. Penfield. I mean that I want to talk to you about 
your conduct. 

Roger. I ain’t got no duck. 

Mrs. Penfield. Don’t interrupt until I have finished. I 
hear that you have forgotten, or at least disregarded, the 
motherly admonitions which I gave you yesterday. 

Roger [aside and searching pockets]. Gosh, I diden’ know 
she gimme anything like that. I musta lost ’em. 

Mrs. Penfield. I hear that you have been fighting again. 

Roger. Well, I ain’t. 

Mrs. Penfield. Why, Roger Penfield! 

Roger. Well, I tell y’ I ain’t been fightin’ again. 

Mrs. Penfield, Why, Roger! How did your eye get so 




THE PACIFIST 


101 


black, then ? And how did your face come to be scratched 
so, if you haven’t been fighting? 

Roger. I never said I hadn’t been fightin’. I said I hadn’t 
been fighthin’ again. Not since th’ las’ time, I mean. 

Mrs. Penfield. Well, when was that? 

Roger. Oh, ’bout ha’f an hour ago, I guess. 

Mrs. Penfield. Shame! Shame! I thought you and Tim¬ 
othy were on calling terms. Why were you fighting? 

Roger. ’Cause we’s on callin’ terms, I reckin. 

Mrs. Penfield. How could that be? 

Roger. Well, he called me a liar an’ I called him another ’n 
then we went at it good an’ proper. 

Mrs. Penfield. And now you’re a pretty looking thing. 
Look at that eye. Look at that face all scratched up. 

Roger. Well, you jest orter see Tim’s mug. 

Mrs. Penfield [half proudly]. You are a young barbar¬ 
ian, Roger, but you are a hero, too. 

Roger. You are my Ma an’ I reckin I hafta take all that, 
but Tim Murphy had better not call me any names like 
that, that I don’t know what they mean. I’ll punch his 
snoot fer ’im. 

Mrs. Penfield. I believe you must hold to the old adage 
about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. 

Roger. Now, look-a here, Ma. You know blamed good an’ 
well that I ain’t gonna let nobody knock my teeth an’ 
eyes out an’ not try to git even. 

Mrs. Penfield. How have you been getting along with 
Jimmy Jones? 

Roger. Aw, to heck with Jimmy Jones. I ain’t got no use 
fer ’im. 

Mrs. Penfield. Why, he is a nice little boy, Roger. You 
ought to like him. 

Roger. I don’t though. 

Mrs. Penfield. What is wrong with Jimmy? 

Roger. Aw, he ’s a sissy. That’s what. 

Mrs. Penfield. I should never have thought of that. I 
noticed that none of you boys can ever do anything that 
he can’t do as well. 


102 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Roger. I don’t keer. He’s a sissy. He’s a twin with a 
girl, ain ’t he ? 

Mrs. Penfield. That is a strange reason for calling a boy 
a sissy. [Roger seems suddenly to notice something off¬ 
stage. He runs to window.] Where are you going, Roger? 

Roger. Just over here to th’winder. 

Mrs. Penfield. Come back. I haven’t finished talking to 
you yet. [Follows him and takes arm to pull him back.] 

Roger [resisting]. Aw, lemme go, Ma. 

Mrs. Penfield [tightening her hold]. I won’t. Whatever 
has come over you, anyhow? Don’t you know you might 
fall out and hurt yourself ? 

Roger. Aw, hurt nuthin’. Lemme git my arm loose to 
wave at Tim. 

Mrs. Penfield. Wave at Tim? Not much, I won’t, sir. 
Why, you have just been fighting with Tim, so that is not 
what you want. You can’t fool me. 

Roger. I ain’t tryin’ to fool you, Ma. Honest Injun, I 
ain’t. I shore nuff wanta wave at Tim. 

Mrs. Penfield. Now, Roger, be careful. You know what 
becomes of liars. 

Roger. Yes’m, I know. But I do wanta wave at ’im. He’s 
wavin’ at me. 

Mrs. Penfield. Really ? 

Roger. Yes, he is. Ain’t y’ gonna leave me wave back 
at ’im? 

Mrs. Penfield. Yes, if you will promise not to run away, 
or do anything else. 

Roger. Gosh, Ma! I won’t do nothin’ but wave. Can’t 
y’ trust me? 

Mrs. Penfield. Oh, yes, I am beginning to trust you. 

Roger. Well, what makes y’ still keep th’ pantry locked 
then? But lemme go quick, so’s I c’n wave at Tim. 

[Mrs. Penfield releases Roger who at once goes back to 
window and , putting his thumb to his nose in full view 
of audience , wiggles all his fingers .] 


curtain 


GABRIEL’S HORN 

CHARACTERS 

Mr. White, A white fox hunter 

Tad, His darkey servant. He carries a hunting horn 

Rev. Augustus Jones, Negro pastor 

Sister Callie Clark, Choir leader 

Sister Susan Shanks, Parishioner 

Elder Aaron Clark, Pillar of the church 

Deacon Abimelech Clark, Another pillar 

Enter Mr. White and Tad, running from right 

Mr. White [taking off hat and pretending to sling water 
from it]. Just in time to keep from getting soaked, Tad. 
Tad. Yas, sah, yas, sah. Dat am a fac’. Us sho is lucky 
an’ den some. 

Mr. White. That’s right too, I’m thinking, Tad. It would 
have been terrible for you to get wet. You might have 
faded. 

Tad. No, sah, dat woulden hu’t me none. But I wuz 
skeered mah new hat might get wet. [Takes hat out of 
his shirt bosom and straightens it out.] 

Mr. White. Why, Tad! I thought hats belonged on heads. 
Tad. Yas, sah, but yo ’ see dis heah am mah hat personately 
an’ prividually. 

Mr. White. Yes, I know that you sold your ’possum hides 
and bought the hat; but what is it for, if not to wear ? 
Tad. Well, sah, yo’ sees, it’s lak dis. I wuz cornin’ ’long 
hack dar an ’ when it begince to rain I thought t ’ mahse ’f, 
now, de hat am all mine, but de haid b’longs to Massa 
White. Jse gonna take ca’ ob mah hat an Massa White 
kin look a’ter his own prop’ty. 

Mr. White. Which I probably should have done. Wool 
is bad to shrink and if that head of yours decreased any, 
it wouldn’t amount to enough to notice. 

Tad. Massa, yo’ sholy do lub yo’ jokes, don’t yo’? 

Mr. White. Yes, I like you a little bit sometimes. 

103 


104 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Tad. Axin’ yo’ pa’don, Massa, but mebbe dat’s de reason 
Ise so fond ob yo’. 

Mr. White. Say, by the way, Tad, is this Wednesday ? 

Tad. How yo’ spec’s me ter know, ef yo’ don’t? Is yo’ 
t’ink Ise a walkin’ calendah? 

Mr. White. This is Wednesday, Tad. Do you know what 
that is? 

Tad. Sho, dat’s We’n’sday. 

Mr. White. I mean, do you know what falls on Wednes¬ 
day? 

Tad : Yas, sah. Kain on dis ’n’. 

Mr. White. No, no. Not that. What comes on Wednes¬ 
day? 

Tad. Lawd, don’ ax me dat. 

Mr. White. Why, Tad, I’m surprised at you. This is 
prayer meeting night at this church. 

Tad. Dat’s a fac’. I fo’got about dat. I orter be kicked 
by a mule. Heah, Massa, yo’ kick me. 

Mr. White. No. Thanks for the compliment just the 
same though, Tad. 

Tad. I nevah knowed dat I had any sich a thing, Massa, 
but ef Ise got ary nother ’n, yo’s welcome to it too. 

Mr. White. Do you suppose the prayer meeting will meet 
tonight ? 

Tad. Lawd, I dunno. Ise not s’posed to s’pose nohow. 
Maybe dey will an’ maybe dey wont. Ef dey does, dey 
am apt to hab deir fedders too wet to pray much. 

Mr. White. I doubt if anyone ventures out on a night 
like this. I’m going to take a nap while it is raining, 
anyhow, Tad. You may wake me when the rain stops. 

Tad. Yas, sah. [Aside.] Who’s gonna wake me up, mebbe? 

Mr. White [goes to corner of room, spreads cldak which he 
carries on floor and lies down on it.]. Now, Tad, remem¬ 
ber the last time I tried to sleep out like this when you 
were along? You pestered me every five minutes with 
some of your nonsense. Now this time I don’t want to 
be disturbed till it stops raining. Do you understand? 

Tad. Yas, sah. I unnerstans. I wouldn’t bodder yo’ ef it 
wuz to come a sowclone. 


GABRIEL’S HORN 


105 


Tad sits for few moments, then goes over to Mr. White. 

Tad. Well, well, Massa am done already asleep. Po’ man, 
he sholy am tiahed. But he do lubs ter foiler dem houn’s. 
Eeckin when he die an’ git to Heaben, ef Ole Salt Peter 
won’t let dem houn’s fru de Gol’en Gate, Massa he’ll ’fuse 
to come in. 

Tad goes to door or window and looks out 

Tad. Peahs lak maybe it am gonna rain all night, an’ I 
don ’ ca ’ ef it does, neithah. Mo ’ rain, mo ’ res ’. Ise gonna 
res’ some right now, too. [ Goes to corner opposite Mr. 
White.] I’ll jes lay me down t’ sleep on dis li’l bench 
an’ take a nap mahse’f. It’ll jes be a sho’t nap, though, 
cause de bench ain’t ve’y long to sta’t wid. 

Tad lies down on bench and rests. After a few moments 
have passed a loud stamping and scraping is heard off 
stage at right. Tad sits up. 

Tad. Lan’ o’ Goshen! Dat mus’ be a earthquake, sho! 

Enter Rev. Jones, Sisters Clark and Shanks and 
Brothers Aaron and Abimelech Clark. They fail to 
notice either Mr. White or Tad. 

Rev. Jones. De Lawd sez, “I will prove mah vessels.” 

Dis night am a good time fo’ provin’. 

Brother Abimelech. Amen, Bruddah Jones. But dat’s de 
fust time I evah hea’d a covahed wagon pulled by a pa’ o’ 
jinnies, called a vessel. 

Brother Aaron. Abimelech, don’ show yo’ ignorumps. 
Us is all , vessels. 

Sister Susan. Ef it hadn’t been fo’ dat wagon sheet, I 
believe dis vessel would o’ floundahed in de storm. 
Sister Callie. De Lawd sez He will pervide, Sistah 
Shanks. He am de one dat pervided dat sheet. 

Brother Aaron. Git out. Sistah Callie, dat’s mah sheet. 
I pervided dat. 

Sister Callie. No, Bruddah Aaron, ef yo’ is mah own 


106 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


blood bruddah ’sides bein’ mah bruddah in de chu’ch, I’ll 
hab to ’sputify wid yo’ dere. Yo’ wnz on’y a insterment 
to de pervision. 

Rev. Jones. Bruddahs an’ Sisteren, I feels lak great wuk 
am to be done heah tonight. I doubts ef anybody else 
ob de congergation is apt to be heah, but somehow it peahs 
to me lak angels am abroad. 

Tad [aside], Ef dey is, dey’s purty apt to git deir wing 
fedders wet. 

Brother Abimelech. Yas, sah, Bruddah Jones, somehow 
or othah Ise got dat same insignificant feelin’ dat we am 
in de presence ob a unknown powah. 

Sister Susan. I knows dat some kin’ o’ extemporaneous 
happ’nin’ is gonna trespire heah, ca’se dis eb’nin’ when 
I wuz cuttin’ up a chicken fo’ suppah, de livah an’ de 
gizza’d wuz bofe growed togeddah. 

Rev. Jones. Hab no fea’, mah mos’ dea’ly belubbed. God 
pertects. 

Sister Callie. Le’s all sing some good ole song dat us all 
knows. I feels so full ob de powah an ’ spirit dat Ise gotta 
do somepin befo’ I runs ovah. 

Rev. Jones. Amen, Sistah Callie. Yo’ am a lamp to ouah 
footsteps an’ a light to ouah pathway. I dunno what 
us’d do widout yo’ as ouah choi’ leadah. 

Brother Aaron. What’ll us sing? 

Sister Susan. “Swing Low, Sweet Cha’iot” is a good un. 

Brother Abimelech. Amen, Sistah Shanks, yo ’ su ’gestion 
is lak de retu ’n ob de Pro j e-kin Son. Jes’ at de right time. 

Sister Callie. Evahbody sing. [She starts “Sweet Char¬ 
iot.” Others join. At end of first verse, Rev. Jones 
raises his hand to command silence.] 

Rev. Jones. Befo’ us sings de nex’ stanza I wants to re- 
ma ’k a few wuds by way ob disco ’se. Dat am a gran ’ an 
elecuted ol’ song, mah dea’ly belubbed. It sho am. Dat 
am a song dat oughta be writ on de hearts an’ min’s ob all 
de risin’ generation wid coal-black, blood-red lettahs 
ob ink, wid a pen made fum de angel’s wing ob mem’ry. 
Allays when singin’ dat song, I has only to close mah eyes 


GABRIEL’S HORN 


107 


an’ let mah discrimination loose an’ I c’n see dat cha’iot 
descen’in’ as it wuz fum de porticoes ob Heaben. Amen, 
peepul. Yas, sah. I sees dat gol’en cha’iot pulled by six 
big, milk-white ho’ses, an’ seated dar a-hoPin’ onter de 
lines am de Angel Gab’el, an’ in one han’ he hoi’s a 
silvah bugle dat soun’s out de call fo’ all de saints to 
come gathah roun’ de throne. 

Sister Callie. Amen, Bruddah Jones, Amen! An’ I c’n 
see de same thing dat yo’ sees, only in Gab’el’s lap am 
a-layin’ de Lam’s Book o’ Life an’ in it am writ de names 
ob all de saints. 

Brother Aaron. U-m-h-u-m-m. Oh, ain’t dat so? An’ 
when de Angel Gab’el blow his ho’n, all de po’, wea’y 
chillun ob men heah below in dis worl’ ob sin an’ sorrer 
where moths corrup’s an’ rus’ cankahs, will be gatha’d 
up to ole Ab’r’ham’s bosom in de twinklin’ ob de eye. 

Tad [aside]. Somethin’ else is gonna happen heah in de 
twinklin’ ob somebody’s eye, ef yo’ all ain’t keerful. 
[Fondles his hunting horn.] 

Sister Susan. Amen! Hallelujah! An’ dere’ll be weepin’ 
an’ wailin’ an’ gnashin’ ob teeth, when all de weak-ed 
heahs dat awful voice, lak de sound ob thundah or mighty 
rollin’ watahs, say, “Depa’t fum me, yo’ wo’kahs ob 
nicotine, fo’ I knows yo’ knock.” 

Brother Abimelech. But de saints’ll come rejoicin’ in 
deir robes ob spotless white, an’ dey } ll wea’ bright, 
shinin’ crowns. 

Brother Aaron. Oh, ef de Angel Gab’el ’d jes’ toot his 
ho’n! * 

[Tad lifts horn to his lips as if to blow it, then slowly 
lowers it.] 

Tad [aside]. No, dat won’t nevah do. Massa White said 
not to ’sturb him till it quit rainin’. 

Rev. Jones. Sing anuddah vuss, Sistah Callie. 

[Sister Callie starts second verse, in which others join. 
All are now worked up to earnestness which soon be¬ 
comes frenzy. The simpers sway to and fro with the 


108 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


time of the song, clasping their hands or clapping them 
and looking upward. During the singing of the second 
verse, Tad lifts horn to his lips several times as if to 
Mow it but each time reluctantly lowers it without doing 
so. At close of second verse Sister Susan springs out 
in front of others, waving her arms and shouting hys¬ 
terically.] 

Sister Susan. Oh, bruddahs an’ sistahs—dey ain’t but 
one sistah ’sides mahse’f—but I sez sistahs anyhow. 

Others. Amen! Amen! 

Sister Susan. God has filled mah hea’t so full dat I lubs 
evahbody. 

Brother Abimelech. Amen, Sistah Susan! Amen! 

Sister Susan. Oh, I tells yo’ all ag’in, dat when I seen 
dat chicken’s livah an’ ’is gizza’d bofe stuck togeddah, 
I knowed somethin’ wuz a-comin’. I dun see it right 
now. [Gazes toward ceiling in a fixed and abstracted 
manner.] 

[Others look at each other in alarm.] 

Brother Aaron. What am it, Sistah Shanks? What’s 
yo’ sees? 

Sister Susan. I looks up into de Heabens, an’ I sees dat 
cha’iot swingin’ down right now. 

Rev. J ones. Oh, Lawd, do let it come! 

Sister Callie. I sees it! I sees it! Look! Fo ’kses, look! 
[Points upward.] 

^Brother Abimelech. Jes’ let de Angel toot ’is ho’n! 

[All are looking upward in spellbound attitude when Tad 
raises horn to lips and blows a long drawn out blast. 
Pandemonium breaks loose. All rush out frantically 
save Mr. White and Tad.] 


QUICK CURTAIN 


HAM AND SAM 


CHARACTERS 

Ham and Sam, Two harmless colored men 

Discovered: Sam seated at center of stage as curtain rises, 
whetting large “fake” razor on sole of his shoe. 

Sam [sings to tune of “Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo 9 ”] 

I had a li’l fight wid Rastus Brown 
His wife wnz right dere too. 

I dnn had dat niggah down, 

But ’is wife waded in wid a shoe. 

But I ain ’ gonna run no mo no mo 
An’ I ain’ gonna run no mo’. 

Dis blade o’ mine will cut so fine, 

Dat I ain’ gonna run no mo’. 

Enter Ham from right, staggering. 

Ham. Yo’ nevah did run, nohow, did yo’, Sam? 

Sam. Well, maybe not. We cain’t al’ays be so shuah ’bout 
dat kin’ o’ subjeck. In my day an’ when I wuz really 
anxious to run, at times an’ ’casions bes’ knowed to mah- 
se ’f, I passed lots uv ’em dat wuz runnin ’. 

Ham [ stands unsteadliy]. Dem boats o’ yo’s [regards 
Sam’s feet closely] peahs to me lak is built mo’ fo’ powah 
dan fo’ speed, big boy. 

Sam. Say, man, looka heah. Yo’s reelin’ lak a fishahman 
dat’s caught a fo ’ poun ’ bass. What’s de mattah wid yo ? 

Ham. I’s seasick. 

Sam. Git out, niggah. Yo’ain’t nevah even seen a pictuah 
ob de sea, much less been on it to git seasick. 

Ham. Yeah, I seen one pictuah ob de sea one time, long 
yeahs ago, w’en I wuz a boy. 

Sam. An’ yo’ means to tell me dat it am jest now takin’ 
effec’ on yo’ an’ makin’ yo’ seasick? 

109 


110 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Ham [sits]. No, no. Dat ain’t it. I’s jest been out on de 
street watchin’ dem pummanent waves go by. 

Sam. W’y, man, I nevah would git sick at sich as dat. 
Nice li’l young fresh watah waves ain’t gonna huht no¬ 
body. Dem would compare to waves on de ribbah. 

Ham. Yeah, but some o’ dem I seen wuz mo’ lak ole tough 
salt watah waves fum de Palantic Oceum. 

Sam. Yessah, I guess it am a factuality dat a man do 
feel completely at sea among some ob ’em. 

Ham. Uh-huh. Dat’s how come dat poet poeted ’bout 
“what am de wild waves sayin’.” ‘Tain’t safe nary bit. 
W’y, I’s got so uneasy ’bout mahse’f dat I dun went an’ 
had mah life insuahed. 

Sam. Sho nuff? Ef yo’ jest got what yo’ is wuth to civ- 
’lization, it ain’t wuth de papah it’s wrote on. 

Ham. Humph. Man, I got mahse’f insuahed fo’ ten thou- 
san’ dollahs. 

Sam. How on earth did yo’ evah manage to do dat, wid 
yo’ fo’ks all so unhealthy. 

Ham. Well, at de fust place, I tole ’em de trufe— 

Sam [interrupting ]. I don’ b’lieves it possible fo’ yo’ to 
do any sich, but go on. 

Ham. Sho nuff, I tole ’em de trufe. I diden’ know no 
bettah. 

Sam. Well, I betcha diden’ git no insuahance w’en yo’ 
tole ’em ’bout yo’ Pa dyin’ at fo’ty-two wid heart trouble, 
an’ yo’ Ma dyin’ at thi’ty-eight wid two buckets o ’ ’lasses. 

Ham. I diden’ fo’ a fac’. But den I tries anuddah place. 

Sam. What yo’ tell ’em at dat place? 

Ham. I tole ’em dat Pa died at de immatuah age ob ninety- 
two— 

Sam [interrupting ]. Wid heart trouble ? 

Ham. No, no. Fum de effects ob gibbin’ up his seat to a 
lady in a airplane bus. 

Sam. A purty good, reas’nable lie. But what about yo’ 
Ma dat died so young? 

Ham. Oh, huh? I tole ’em she swallered a gol’ tooth an’ 
it gib ’er de Bright’s disease. 


HAM AND SAM 


111 


Sam. Did yo’ tell yo’ wife ’bout gittin’ yo’ life insuahed? 

Ham. No, sah, 1 nevah. An’ what’s mo’, I don’t aims to, 
neithah. Mah life is in enough danger as it is. 

Sam. Aw fiddle, Ham. Yo’ knows dat brown-skin beauty 
o’ yo’s is hahmless. 

Ham. Yeah. I knows it. She’s jest about as hahmless as 
a she-male tigah. ’Sides dat, she ain’t no brown skin 
beauty. 

Sam. I don’t see why she ain’t. 

Ham. I does. De Lawd jes’ nevah made ’er day way, 
dat’s why. 

Sam. She’s yo ’ wife, so I guess yo’d orter know ’bout huh, 
ef anybody do, but I wuz thinkin’ dat she wuzn’t so very 
uncommon black. Is she? 

Ham [ sarcastically ]. No she ain’t black. W’y, man, dat 
woman am so black dat when she cries, puah ole ink runs 
down huh cheeks an’ she uses shoe blackin’ fo’ face cream. 

Sam. Yo’ speaks in plain words all right. 

Ham. An’ mean—dey ain’t no tellin’ how mean dat 
woman is. 

Sam. Yo’ don’t' say. 

Ham. Yes, I does. W’y jest de othah day she hit me wid 
huh sock. 

Sam. Well, don’t seem lak dat orter hu’t much. Jest a 
sock. 

Ham. Yeah, but yo’ don’t know dat woman o’ mine lak 
I does. She had huh foot in dat blamed sock. 

Sam. Dat wuz bad. 

Ham. But she ain’t al’ays bad. Dere’s times w’en she 
gits plum lovin’. 

Sam [reminiscently] . I say she do. 

Ham [threateningly]. What’s dat yo’ say? 

Sam [alarmed]. Oh, I say, do she? 

Ham. Say, looka heah, man. Mebbe yo’ knows too much 
knowledge fo’ de size ob yo’ knowah. [Advances upon 
Sam, fingers crooked as if to grasp his throat.] 

Sam [flourishes razor]. Keep back away fum me, cullud 
man. Yo’ fingahs looks lak dey might had p’ison oak 
on ’em. 


112 


COMIC PLAYS AND DIALOGUES 


Ham [halting]. How come yo’ knows so much ’bout mah 
f am ’ly ? 

Sam. I don’ knows no nuthin’ ’bout yo’ fam’ly, ’ceptin’ 
what yo’ said yo’se’f. 

Ham. No, I guess not. 

Sam. Honest. Dat wuz jest a slip ob my tongue got me 
in bad. 

Ham [convinced]. Yeah, kinda lak it wuz a slip ob yo’ 
fingah dat rattled de latch on de hen house dat time ole 
Deacon Jones filled yo’ full o’ bird shot. 

Sam. Nevah min’ ’bout dat shot now. Dat’s dun past. 

Say, man, yo’ is determined to run dis conversation into 
somep’n bad. Le’s change de subjeck to mo’ pleasant 
tropics. 

Ham. Awri’. Change it yo’se’f, den, ef yo’s a magicium. 

Sam. W’at yo’ mean—ef I’s a—magicium? 

Ham. Yo’ said, change de subjeck, diden’ yo’? 

Sam. Suah—but— 

Ham [interrupting ]. No but about it, de subjeck am lead 
Now, le’s see yo’ change dat to feathahs, or some othah 
tropic. 

Sam. Say, niggah, yo ’ knows ef I could I would. 

Ham. Uh-huh. An ef de toad had wings, he wouldn’t 
hab so many corns on ’is anatomy. 

Sam. W ’at’s dat ? 

Ham. Dat’s—oh, I dunno, ’ceptin ’ dat’s whah de co ’ns am. 

Sam. Well, den, dat bein’ de case, de nex’ time yo’ ag¬ 
gravates yo’ insinuations by tryin’ t’ intimidate me, I’s 
a-gwineter take mah anatomy to yo ’, an ’ knock yo ’ plum 
inter de middle ob nex’ week. 

Ham. Now, lemme see. Yo’ sets aroun’ a heap—I guess 
yo’ must aims to come at me lak a craw-dad. 


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